Quotes about sketch, page 10
The eyes are black and beautiful complexion fair and sweet.
The eyes are black and beautiful complexion fair and sweet.
Long and loose hang the locks the face innocence breathes.
The brow is broad and winsome eyebrows arched and sharp.
The heart feels stirrings of love the looks downward creep.
Restlessness assails the heart which longs since eve to weep.
Love is in its nascent form in gentle waves the madness leaps.
The false promises that it makes somewhat its worth decrease.
Why shouldn't your lyric Shad touch our heart and soul?
They describe the facts of life and sketch the life complete.
poem by Shad Azimabadi
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Sketching My Face From A Mirror
using a ballpoint pen i sketch my face
from the mirror
looking carefully on every line of my face
i let my pen run tracing
every year
of my past stopping
on some pores and hairs and moles
marking some
points of emptiness and hiding places
and foxholes
and burial grounds
and long boulevards
and tunnels
and plains and green fields and deserts
and mountains
they are all on my face
my eyes looking at my eyes
not completely
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Almost Home
Remembering a Valentine sent to me by a poet from India,1989
You meet the moment with your solace thought.
Your fingers sketch a gray house far away.
Its window lights are warming cool resolve.
I think and know that we are almost home.
They tell me that a red bird has no soul
And yet I choose it for my metaphor.
Its spirit skims above half-frozen roads.
One hand is clapping for the death
With beautiful precision how your words
Eliminate each snowflake from my mind.
Yes, I accept your red bird valentine
Praising the strength that thought it over seas.
poem by Sandra Fowler
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A sketch for my beloved
A sketch for my beloved
~
All that is beautiful and right
grows daily in my heart
I shall not let it wilt nor fade
for this love I shall fight
~
it is in your tender kiss
it is in your warming eyes
those words you speak to me
sweet promises to my soul
which tell me of our love
and how it is a lasting joy
to see past the tests of time
we are bound by a dream
~
in the quiet of my sleep
I lay beside you always
your heart is to my own
a name echoed in each beat
[...] Read more
poem by Matthew Holloway
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From the Poets Desk
In the dull quiet of night
I sit and pen in prose my dreams
My every loves ambition
I sketch portraits in words
To play the scene I dare not live
There in words I come alive
There in words I hide
I find the strength and courage
The belief in love itself
A world of possibility
Laid bare, open before me
The written self marches on
Where I sometimes fear to tread
To speak so free of a thought
Which serenades a great beauty
Pays tribute to one such girl
The romance of my verse a revelation
Behind the truth of my soul
Who in the sleepless dull quiet of night
Comes alive to write
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Doing Nothing (Inspired by Poet Miller Williams)
We do things
to keep something from doing something
the milk from expiring
the scale from cracking
the skin from wrinkling
the breasts from pointing south
We do things to make things happen
To remember that first kiss
not to freeze before a charging zoo tiger
to hope the pepper spray will finally work
not to see our secrets & lies
to finally shout BINGO
not to suffer a stroke while shooting baskets
But today
I will punch the snooze alarm at least 5 times
I will loafe on blades of grass &
sketch a purple passion flower
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poem by Bob Genevro
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I will make you my destiny
Come sit besides me for a short while,
In my eyes I'll capture your picture,
and I will make you my destiny.
On papery heart I will draw your sketch,
will hide it in the corner easy to fetch,
I will make you my destiny.
You will remain always there,
my heartbeat you will be for ever,
I will make you my destiny.
You will understand whatever I say,
and I will understand what you say,
I will make you my destiny.
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poem by Renu Kakkar
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Rhyme Rant on Prose Rants
RHYME RANT ON PROSE RANTS
Prose which with capitals would rant
against pet hate, for favoured cause
is often filled with fatal flaws,
or pays attention far too scant
to harmony, stays ignorant
of rhythm which enhances, draws
skein polychrome. Its pointed jaws
restrict free scope increasing cant,
seldom perceived as elegant.
True poet purity implores
to etch, to sketch, to open doors
upon perspective which prose [r]ant
encounters rarely where it roams
on well trod trails of barren tomes.
3 December 2007
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Variations Of A Structure
graphic that is the word
there is a concrete structure
a bill of materials
a sketch of what must follow
there is a salable syllable
consistently uttered by
the demanding market
poem is actually
an architecture
of beams and roofing
sometimes you throw
away stars
they have become
the most abused
cliche
there must be
a variation
black bricks
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Portrait of life...
Awakened to the rough sketch of another morning,
The birth of this new day but a canvass of new creation,
The pallette of life felt in every breath and sense I feel,
My portrait slowly takes shape as the day unfolds,
I am the artist painting life upon another days canvas,
The beauty I preceive has influence on those around me,
For I possess a power within known to all true poets,
The power to paint a beautiful landscape of hope,
Or to darken man's reality with visions of despair,
What picture of eternity shall you paint upon life's journey? ...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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