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When gods remove their mask the face behind is no more than a creator. An artist on days ego is allowed to sing becomes a creation. Breaths spun from their own lungs
falling against the coarse rug, I feel the ripples of fear pang against my core darting around inside of me are the remnants of thoughts they aren’t random, yet they don’t match up
All of creation holds an abundance of gorgeous gifts- an overflow of magical exuberance- none are foremost though some are special. And so it is with these givers of solace and
That morning brought sight There was color And there was light It would show me places I had never known So I kept it safe for later
From the moment I wake, Brrrr Brrrr-- snooze again Soft carpet under foot Ice cold water drops kiss my face good morning Breakfast smells waft towards my nose They tantalize my feet down each
What lays out there in the deep of the night with roaring blazes of life and light masses so big whose dance is so fine a sweet sound of nothing silence divine I realize I've been staring
What will happen if I sneak into heaven? I just want a glimpse of paradise.
At the dawn of creation, as the gods formed a hundred million galaxies, there also formed with them our blazing and bold sun. This newly formed orb began to rise from the horizon line of our Earth,
I recently realized I could re-draw all of my mythologies - after all i say never beg for power because the powerful never give or bestow power. they act in power.the powerless always has the power to do right.
The feminine energy, The mystical remedy To all the world's problems, the Euphorian recipe.
History has a tendency of repeating itself many characters reincarnate into people with that being said there was once a man who believed that humans are all perfect in their own ways and that a human can never do any wrong until one of its daught
As I think and reflect on what my life was, I'm glad I overcame all that this life does. This life we live is but a dance, Dodging grief and unsteadiness with our bare hands.
My dear child, I thought of you before time existed or darkness was created. Before there was dirt beneath your feet and Earth before your eyes, I knew you, and I loved you
The forest greeness I have seen from my warm home Creation of God
When I eat veggies, Nature comes to my own brain, When I drink cocoa, I thank God that I exist. What can explain it? I am not an accident. Why with randomness? Everything has a purpose,
Many can say that Poetry is a simple concept However, they probably don’t understand that it’s difficult to create a piece of literature with technique, symbolism, and depth
Do they know they’ll only survive to be shiny, broken, beautiful shards of ACDC ground into the soles of my feet after we lock eyes for the fifth time? Sometimes it only takes one
Read me aloudFeel the familiar sensation of words often saidAnd bring me to life We living things Like to scream into a voidCold and careless to our concernsWe yell not to be heard
We created you from dust She created man from clay We caused you to be a creation She released you from an open womb With a beaming, joyful face We created, our hands made you
Creation from a stand point exclusivity sought-after man's point rolled-up late night jam joint all into one to create some sort of fifth-dimensional meaning Creation
Dear Water, You have always been the love, Life of my Body. From my very existence, I have had you, By my side nurturing me. I could not live,
The universe,An unequivocal mess of chaotic understandingLanguage, by which, no other comparesAnd the One who authors itBy no other name than what isThe very essence of existence, language
I've had a fast kind of love A slow kind of love And the kind of love that you wouldn't have realized if it punch you in the jaw and sent you all the way to Japan Ha
In all honesty I am scared of myself,I think we all should be.We are creatures of creation and destructionWe never know the next thing our hands will
Tick tock, Clock, Your face faces mine As if by some sinister design I'm inclined to sit and watch your hand. Placing bets like “I dare it to move”
It starts with one word. A single, simple word that rings well in the mind Takes it’s time to develop and before I know it The word has found a soulmate
What if all we are, Is the product of a dream? Some slumbering mind ranging far, Projecting us from the stream, Of thought and delight As it passes through the night?
Iliana Torres January 2017
What once began as a thought flourished as the words were wrought like cascading raindrops falling from a single spot The words my hand created told a story that was dictated
And for every time we touched, It felt like New York was still and quiet; And Las Vegas had gone dark; Big Ben down in London stopped ticking;And the flow of Fallingwater seized; Venice stopped sinking, And Rom
As ink ridden eyes Gaze into white skies The world, a canvas The painter, relentless The brush he holds A stroke of gold
Sneakers laced up tight, Water bottle filled to fullest height. It may take a drive short or long but Always, I long to take a hike. Nature beckons me to explore;
What's between my legs offends you I can see it in your fear the way you shut us out just proves you can't face the truth within. We have the Universe inside us you see it bleeding out
I feel electric walking through a park engulfed with happy princes, children skipping, people playing to their laughter. singing strings of guitars in this park the mirth of drooping spilling coins in their cases.
I wish there were a planet where we could just grow things. Who's we? It's you and me. Giving back to creation in it's finest quality. Flowers growing tall
Pens are marvelous creatures, aren't they? They live and breathe and bleed. Oh, yes how they bleed All over pages, endlessly marking history,
Tear down the wall Sturdy and tall Set firm with mortars that kept us in thrall Blood dirt and steel Flaming hot feel
they say God shaped us out of clay, His breath rippling through abandoned parking lots, empty churches, only to strike a chord, ring a bell, sing a song
The clouds detach themselves from the sky and bind their bodies to the ground Creating dew drops dropping down the grass To awake in a fog, a misty glass The affair doesn't last They return to the sky
Chocolate dew and melted rain. Putting all these illusions into a frame. Art that spoke to you. painting and then stamping your name. They call it science but it would not be fair game.
People always say that a picture paints a thousand words. But a thousand words can paint such a vivid picture. I open the book and flip the pages. My mind can fantasize scenes
The sun, the moon, the stars and the sky; such beautiful creation, only a master can have such imagination.
My doodles have moved from pictures to words, Evolution of expression - Is fragmented language easier to understand than scratchy images?
Why, in the relentless progression,
Awesome are the things Made with Love Creator God Has given to us. The sky, the stars, and Caresses from the bright moon Are just a small piece.
In sunshine or rainIn pleasure or pain In trial or triumphYou are my Godand You are enough. You make the day,and end the night,Thank you Lordfor my religious rite.
Random acts of kindness to the strangers we don’t know. Anonymously letting our secret personality show. We are humans that have universes living within.
Palette of gray starts the scene, Hinting white, but never leaving black. Find a section, add more white. Now a drop of yellow, a touch of blue Blending and dabbing, and then lastly,
It can move mountains, can reveal fountains, of life and breath,
The beauty of the sky, a lake of blue to own a piece of this glory beyond. God's creation gathered round He knows who, on the eve of the beginning he dawned. A forest of majestic green wonder
I am an artistic soul. I sing, I dance, I make digital art. I am a diverse homosexual male With the essence of a female A flare of masculinity And a celestial heart.
As a child I never really noticed differences or imperfections in the people around me. It has never once crossed my mind why I might be better than someone else, and it most likely never will.
Long walks on the beach Looking into your eyes
Everything is created In a Bang We bang to create life The Universe bangs to create Life We bang ingredients to build a cake We bang our heads to make a mistake. Everything is just a bang.
BEACHES By: Malaika LeAnne Uding Nice warm sun beating on my back.
Him Something about him His laugh, his smile, something that's him This isn't like me
Imagine the moon explodes into a firework. Imagine the sun falls to ashes. Imagine this world as if it weren/t what it seemed. Create the beauty from what you're given, and make it your own.
As the sun rises and my mind awakes The thoughts start cooking and actions take place They digest down, through my body they go, wanting more Feeling limited because I want to do more
As I drift off to sleep, my mind enters into a door of dreams, a door filled with adventures for me. Suddenly, I find myself in the sky in marvelous flight Seeing the world from up so high.
In her hands is a ball of clay She rolls it in her palms And with her breath, warms it Making it easier to mold. With her thumb and index finger She makes each arm and leg
After being told I could not bare a child, by God's good grace I was blessed with a miracle. How could this tiny human being be growing inside of me? Oh, how do I wonder?
A path appears before you
Who am I in the world we see, Who am I in the world we percieve, Why I'm no more important than you on lucky number 3, I'm just a little something called me,
my scars tell me you're too much you'll never be enough you're not pretty enough you're never going to be good enough and for awhile I let my scars define me
The heart beats like a thousand drums When in the face of inquiry to another A yearning soul heard over melodious hums
"A Darkened Heart" By: Lilly Van Sickle
When starting out We are like a cocoon All wraped up in love Blind to our surroundings As time goes on we start to break free We find out that our cocoon of love Was never what it seemd
Here we are now,
Creation, the overwhelming urge to do what can't be done reach what can't be touched
Create a world that is your own. In any time, screen or stone. Life is clay and the living are the sculptors. With several personalities,gentile or vulgar. We are our own artists.
Robin Stumpfig Rendering the common peace Striking deep Saving the light Forging hope
My mother of Resolution A mother of hope A listener of wisdom My detective of crime Understanding of all imperfections Loving, caring, compassionate
Creation is the greatest and most powerful gift.
The white Hills and Valleys, All the Grooves and Notches, Are spread Clear Before Your eye. The same white all Around you. Then a Brown river
He was here before it All and All owes it all to He cause without He All would never be
Your ideas made me, desgined me. The paper was my womb and the ink nourished me. When i was ready, you P U S H H H H ED me. out. My spine showed my name. Given. My cover reflected you.
Born of water, And of ice, Warm exterior to suffice. Raised from dust, Breath of life, Born into eternal strife. Set up walls,
I don't understand myself.I look in the mirror and have no idea how as to how the sparkle in my eye got there.I can't even begin to imagine how my soul works or my mine or my state of being.
Starlight trickles down the latticework As haughty hearse tires grind past astral asphalt As though recklessly inclined To ferry death’s last claimed Across timeworn cosmic avenues Across God made time
Tiny little painter man paint my skies so blue tiny little painter man paint my dreams come true. For the things I wish to do I can not see so tiny little painter man, paint it clear for me?
Color’d Shadows They hate us They love us We were created by them, society If we talk to them, they’ll hate us If we help them, they’ll hate us
The idea lies inside the self, For we believe the universe is inside of us. We want to explore all we experience, Because we without ends want to understand why everything outside us exists.
What is that tiny speck of dirtIn the distance?That tiny, microscopic,Beautiful speck of dirt
See I came down for a purpose. See as I came down I did not hover, I slammed!The ground broke down in a shatter when I landed. See, I came to bring peace to my loved ones and war to my enemies.
a cluttered studio full of only art how does so many ideas exist? we sit down at a worn wooden table pulling out some moist red clay
A voice inside a soulThe emotion, the strength, the hidden confidence That sometimes never releases; or is trapped on paper By the pen that squeezes out the voice onto a sheet ...Then another sheet, another sheet!It becomes journal of dreams we wa
There she is, a girl all alone Others let out, an annoyed moan She sits, her head down, in a book Other play angry birds on a nook She opens a notebook, takes out a pen
In the darkness-- The space between stars-- Creation's manifest In mysteries stark. Without light, unseen: Dark matters wrought. Caged birds caw to see And speculate silhouette-marks:
Poems capture beauty They describe a living scene They talk about the real world Things everyone can see If you've ever seen a sunset Splashes of color in the sky Or gazed upon a rainbow,
On a grey day filled with rain that never stopsAs my heart screams but can't be heard, time continues to clockI have news--good, bad, happy, and sadYet I have no one around to tell them as they're too busy musedWith their pleasures and ecstasy, y
Out of my way Out of my skin Fire flows through my brain Let me go back to my time The time I went to fly Fly higher than the sky Where I met strangers They were neither red nor black
Born into the world Untouched and unstained by harm and knowledge Still clean, fresh, innocent But then the time starts there I grow, I change, I alter, I mutate I create conscious strokes on my blank canvas
I write, therefore I am free free to be me i live in a country with freedom of expression and I choose to use it. I need no therapy sessions, write my own questions
Today,I am a poet.I can feel the wordsWelling up within me,LIke a smile I have not yet freed.
Beneath the deep blue sky Lies the moon and sun Speaking of the many days In which are yet to come. Listening to the silence Hoping that it stays But knowing that the peace
I shaped a universe today, just a little more than I had the day before. I added rain on another planet, far from the plot, and though the souls on earth will never see the rain, they will feel it.
So much talent, And I know I have the energy I see beauty in everything. In every blade of grass In every piece of trash, I see intricacy. The problem is finding the time, The time to create.
They say that all things Had used to be combined. Together in God's world, Existing freely under the Son. But then one day, A great ball appeared, With a brand new kind of life Living under His eye.
My soul is river stone And fire fed Dragon eyed and embered Lurking in mountain’s jeweled gold Soaring on iron wings
The beast in me has woken up. The howling of the light that shone through my soul untied the knot of frenetic encapsulation.
Creation is unstable, a question in the dark What am I supposed to say? With hands that lack talent With a mind with too many possibilities;
He has all these opportunities but does he see the things he needs? Does he know the love he shares is worth a lot more than he can compare?
Creation Of everything, of nothing Birth of lives, Called upon by lightning; A connection unbroken Unexplained, undefined, unmatched. One touch Creates one world
Upon this day hence forth I decree The clarity of life set through eternity Unsettled , torn, weary and worn The aspects to creation settled and born
Unsettled beyond the flow of time, The creature stirs in its prime, Clawing and clashing unto the Veil, With sights blazon and a destructive trail.
When God made man He was created similar. Not the same, But close enough that it was Good. When God made woman He unearthed the buried heartbeat, Taking a rib from his cage To give him someone to love
Darkness cages, while canvas white is his only light as he avoids traces of human life. He ignores splattered paint, dripping brushes, and sickening scent of mildew and waste.
A being but not of flesh He is existence He is truth He is all The melody he sings Graces the ears Like honey the tongue A fresh current sprung Spreading, reaching, growing, flowing—unheard
Oh dear precious, How precious you are and beauty that consists within thee. Just like a stamp, pressed hard to a piece of paper, leaving the marks identical mirror image, such as you, a mirror image of me.
Laying here, delighting in the warmth of the sun You made Receiving Your tender kisses as the rays hug the backs of my legs These sticks that I walk on These soles that give me balance