I flipped the drawing
In the plastic drawer.
Its back facing forwards.
No longer will it be what I’m seeing.
I tore the drawing
From the blank wall.
Its laying downwards.
No longer will it be what I’m hoping.
I scrapped the drawings
In the digital folder.
Its all hidden away.
No longer will they be seen.
I erased the drawings
In the vault within my mind.
Its inspiring creativity locked away.
No longer will they be.
The chalk comes in all hues for
Them to break away
From the mundane of every day.
Children of young ages are doing chalk
Drawings on the driveway.
So many things and designs are going through
Their heads it gives them something new to
Explore for today.
I see colorful bugs, butterflies, dogs, cats,
And a horse that is dappled gray.
Believe it or not this is another form of play.
When the children are done we take pictures
Of their work to put it on display.
The best part is clean up is easy with a water
Hose everything gets washed away.
The great news is it is ready for the artists on
Another day.
ISLANDS IN THE SANDS
Islands in the sands
Just beyond the playground
Hello, to the caterpillar
Changes it's wardrobe
to put on his wings
To fly above taunted skies
Up above the islands in the sands
7/29/18
DEDICATED TO POETESS PARIS-MAREE BOREHAM
arranged music by Paris-Maree Boreham©2018
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
Greetings Good People !!!
Have been sorting small drawings,
Creating music and recordings.
So if you'd like to know a little more of me,
Much much welcome,
Paris-Maree <3
P.S Click the link =D
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsRi47KtCjk&t=18s
If there is one thing I want to decline,
it's plucking out eyebrows and drawing a line,
it doesn't look good,
it doesn't look fine,
and not to be unkind,
but what the hell goes through your mind?
Let it be underlined it is a fashion to be left behind.
It can't be refuted,
it looks bloody stupid,
the hairs been uprooted,
your foreheads been looted.
If with men it became common,
to shave the face and then draw it back on,
would you look at him and think he's the one,
or would you think, oh my how very dumb.
Don't pull them out just leave them alone,
buy a small comb and groom what is grown.
You look flippin stupid so let it be known,
drawn on lines aint attractive, grow your own.
A 9 out of 10 looker turns into a 2,
it's the ugliest thing that a girl can do,
it turns your forehead into a clown and that's true,
if your eyebrows are drawn on you're an ugly moo.
No man in the world thinks that 's attractive,
to be brutally honest we think it's a bit lame,
we don't tell you though because lovemaking will be retracted,
your forehead's ugly and it's such a shame.
Art has a way to touch the heart,
Shades and tints play in sketchy start.
Lines and hues grow in swirls gone wild,
Thought pictures show the inner child.
Drawings wear wit in posture fine,
Yes bit by bit from unseen lines.
Joy knows a fire of restless quest,
Mood swings now sire that flashy zest.
Image comes through as ideas surge,
It's up to you to dare emerge.
Abstract art flings in contrast strange,
Pique hidden strings to puzzle range.
Change of seeing from mundane stuff,
From true being comes art enough.
See visual tact conflict with mind,
Brush strokes now act to reveal find.
Yet weird this gap where no thoughts swirl,
Watch craze that maps a bizarre world.
Impact now mouths colours and themes --
Drawings start out beyond mere scheme!
Leon Enriquez
27 January 2016
Singapore
her lucid moments
while dozen starlings take flight
they sweep up into the free wind from pavement
scattered by careless child at some game
they roll in turbulent air
and gift the new born day with melodies sweet enough
to lull even this madwoman's mind
i cant even find my way out of the
dark puzzle pattern of her eyes
all the arranged pieces like tin soldiers
poised just so in the thunder of war
for romantic effect
the things we never speak of
and the novels our hearts weave
are worlds apart
the sunlight reflected as the day wanes
the thoughts held near and dear
we bring out of their hidden box
like trappings of a secret life
costumes we try on in the secret of night
masks we all wear to hide the truth
from ourselves
Drawing to me is a way to express what you feel
Some times I wonder if is a drawing or if it is real,
When a drawing has you focused so deep
Your so in to you almost can fall a sleep,
A picture is worth a thousand words
Every artist draws with a different technique just like birds,
No one should say or judge another artists pictures
Because we all have a sense of what differs,
I say be free and draw what you see and feel
That to me is a true artist and that is a big deal.
Written By: Unique Poetry......2015
Hanging from the crane
is the end-all,
the pitied and plain
inheritor of pain.
It drifts and dangles
in the weak breeze.
You can't turn the pages.
Accept this and die.