Red of blood
Green of puss
Black of veil
Brown of earth
Brush with death
to paint with words and colored phrase
we breathe new speech and set ablaze
the hearts once cooled bereft their fire
now brought to life through told desire
and splashing verse in poignant praise
our canvas aches to speak the ways
we'll shape the bourgeois to amaze
and through our poems we thus aspire
to paint with words
we fill our nights and start our days
by finding tropes to bright rephrase
the common things our lives require
and if we're blessed perhaps inspire
another soul that greets our gaze ...
to paint with words.
Copyright © 2019 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art by Donatella Marraoni taken from public domain files at FreePik / Flickr )
no color is as difficult to paint because sky blue is from God’s brush
yet we try to recreate it in faded blue jeans, paints and colored pencils.
We have nearly perfected her when we realize we did not even get close.
I laid in the grass today to watch sky blue wondering how to get her right.
She has a cloudy misty milky frothy quality I can neither describe or paint.
I took out other colors and mixed without the result I had been seeking.
Adding glitter glue helped give sky blue a little bit of her pop and fizzle.
I finally gave up realizing that God has His own unique brush and colors.
brushstrokes across canvas of mine
flow smoother and mellower with wine
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Exploration!
Confound?
In your exit!
Out myself?
"While Lancaster assumes the role"
News and filming
My first conviction times, bold.
Losing renewal values
Abundantcy people on a crime
I'm sure of that much
When I'm in the business transaction, okay and your going?
Off the call.
It ends in you called yourself back, I'm fine.
Freedom from film in French
Just getting to france takes hello's!
Ahoy!
French Prisoners
Kevin and the Irish actress stay put
Get Lara's the news
Lara's in the system, finally.
Check!
Your message was sent successfully. Thanks
Juliet Society
There will be times that are gloomy
cloud covered in grey
when days are looking dingy
nothings going your way.
Do you rise to the occasion
or fold under the weight
feels like walls are closing in
a psychological state.
Break free from the darkness
and the joy that it taints
better days shall appear
like a fresh coat of paint.
Polly Pure Paint was a painter cat with rainbow eyes.
She loved acrylics and watercolors, she had so many supplies.
Her studio was full of glitter paints and copper cogs and wheels too.
She had a steampunk side, that embodied her art through and through.
"He won’t paint", cried out the Father
suspecting a flame of genius
in the toddler’s eyes.
The painterly parent bought paper, acrylics,
oils, brushes, chalks, and crayons,
not even a finger painting emerged.
The child steadfastly refused to paint.
The father pleaded:
“For the glory of God why not paint!”
His offspring only turned away
to suck a thumb.
Months past…years.
The child grew to be a sullen teenager.
He began to write poetry – and such woeful,
doleful poetry!
Exclamation marks rose up in heaven
as thick as bamboo forests.
His father read them, his face grew ashen
with a sickly alarm.
The poems spoke of phantasmagorical visions,
hordes of screaming demons, dismembered
herds of hapless humans.
Abysmal were the visions the boy unleashed
from his newly erupted consciousness.
Presentiments flew up from the pages
as horrid as the blood-red dragons of Hades.
Upon reading his son’s latest works
the father exclaimed:
“For God’s sake, NEVER paint!”
He took the young man for long walks in the country,
forced him to join a local soccer team,
suggested a military career,
alas
the boy began to paint.
A broken gate in the cemetery holds many memories. By Poet
Walk through my gate at night,
only with a full moon very bright.
The hanging "Gossamer" from the trees is an eerie sight,
I do not know if I like this invite.
This "Ghostly" night may bring some fright,
but in the end we will be alright.
Look over there at the the pale light,
it is over the "Grave" of the knight.
The queen was "Grief-stricken" not showing her delight,
only she knew the cruel husband with her insight.
This "Godforsaken" place is a great place to ghostwrite,
if the "Groaning" does not make one take flight.
It is time to go as we close the gate tight,
it could use a fresh coat of paint in white.
"Cake and Jingle"
Written by
Aria Sooth wants
And
"Groovy" A. Staves
She's the "Glam"
Gotta say she's glamorous
Soothing and sexy
Charismatic
Yeah she's got charm
She's the "RIZZ"
You know what I'm saying
With style and class
With main character energy
I love her smile
You know she ain't playin
attractiveness
We all agreed
she got that
Type of popular appeal
The soft launch
We got something
Going on
New to you
She and been dating
For sometime
Is it delusional
To say I am
Her only one
Am I crazy to say
I am her man
paint on my apron
shes my prettiest canvas
made by my sister
fluorescent yellow paint
I paint a sun
center of a flower
stripes of a dinosaur
giant tulip with peach tips
eyes of a cat
dots on a ladybug
clown fish fin
butterfly wings
Dots on a mushroom house
fluorescent yellow paint
I always had Angie Under My Thumb,
one day I heard her honking her car horn.
What had she just done with her anger,
my candy apple red vette she did Paint It Black.
She was yelling back at me,
You Can't Always Get What You Want.
Now I will Tumblin Dice for release,
my new car is a big mess.
Her blue Mustang car playing The Rolling Stones,
a car of Wild Horses sped off in a flash.
No more Honky Tonk Women for me,
guess I will go back to my old friend Ruby Tuesday.
On days like this,
I just want to Paint It Black,
Turn all the Rolling Stones into black holes.
I know You Can’t Always Get What You Want,
But I’m tired of Tumblin’ Dice trying to win.
I just want to be one of those Wild Horses,
That runs through the sunflower meadow on this Ruby Tuesday.
When I look to the left,
I see Angie.
And when I look to the right,
Three Honky Tonk Women.
I could have all of them Under My Thumb,
But I’m hung up on you.
Paint your reality
Paint your reality
Reality kicks in
You grab your brush
And trust it's no rush
To paint the perfect picture
Doesn't always mean
It's perfect
With the right stroke
The end result can be worth it
Have you really just looked deep within
And really brought it out
Starting with the sketch
Filling in the empty spaces
I'm trying to see what's next
What's the next chapter
The dreams that I'm chasing
Should I keep going after
Should I aim for the sky
Reach for the stars
Should I run after
The laughter
And light
I should never let anyone dim it
I should always sparkle and shine ??
Stay true to the hustle and grind
Paint like your life depends
You are destined to win ??
Paint and wash away the sins
The generational curses
Replace them with affirmations and verses
No rehearsing
Reality is life
Paint the hurt the sacrifice
And turn it into something nice
Stick it out
You got it
Yes, you do
Show the perfect view
Of the Authentic you!!!
Written by Concetta Hardnett
06/14/2025
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