Palet poems on Hello Poetry

Styles Oct 2015

Ravenous

This desire, writhing inside me,
like a hunger; I covet thee.
Yearning for your taste
to quench my thirst for your flavor--cleansing my palet of such cravings.

#love #poem #poetry #happy #*** #hunger #pleasure #***** #thirsty

Poetic T Jul 2016

The Clouds Upon Heavens Palet

A kaleidoscope' of wonderment
eclipses senses, fabrication on the
universe is sewn in hued shades.

I want to embellish myself within
this abstract motion that is a million
pixels of time there but now expelled.

A mirage of bewilderment, of eyes open to
a universe of woven pieces that linger in
lifetimes of curiosity, and we always look up.

Amanda Jul 2013

Love is...

Love is….
The feeling you get when your stomach suddenly becomes an expert gymnast doing expert somersaults.

The sound of your heart beating a million miles a minute echoing the raindrops in a monsoon.

The sight of beautiful eyes, the eyes of your dreams, wanting yours to meet theirs.

The smell of a man, in all his forms, radiating from his arms wrapped around you.

The taste of the future, the texture of happiness, upon the palet of forever

Francisco DH Dec 2012

Art is like love

Art is like love
with cerulean swirling around
leaves that are gracious green on a canvas
and with a magenta sky
touched by the amber sun
upon the endless horizon
With brushes dipped into golden yellow
and gently stroked onto the canvas
to show the beauty of a star

Art is like love with colors that bring happiness and joy

Art is like love
with black smeared and splattered
With angry, fiery orange thrown across a page with a palet knife
With rosy pink covered harshly by blood red as it drips off the brush

Art is like love with colors that bring only despair

Art is like the act of love
expressed by colors of emotions
That wash over us
and with desires that move us

written by me of course and by the help of my good friend Katherine Pena :)
We debated on the title and the use of the word cerulean instead of blue but hey we got one done together so who cares

midnight prague Dec 2010

Waiting.

you represent everything that is most sincere
back in days of kings foul tongue
rapture never exsisted in those black hearts
only the words of the innocent

hands slowly ajoined
streching out slowly like the rose's pedal in her sleep
red and bloodlike
faint like and love like
your gunshot swastica hanging over the bitter palet of my tongue
words spat like fiery arches just go ahead
go along darling
run
run

escape the white fire its thickness
filled with your anomisty
joy
joy

weakness though belittles others
manipulates itself into a indominable
creature in my fists
hung tight
breathing slowly; and my knots
they untwist
I look at the fading blue lines
in these pale wrists

wake up in the mornings
smile, easy brushes of colorful paint
all over my face
strocked down my body and my chest
naked
plundering
blistering
withering
into these sentimental peices
of execution watching the tunic
spots in my vision
creating the resolutions
for a unkept land of twisted
mahogany and trees that
are just too young for me
dirt not ***** enough
you see
my lavender mixes with the wetness
elsewhere and manifest
this purity
female waiting at the end
calmly
lock the heart and rid the fury

I fathom the day shall come
when transgrations are thrown like
hurdels of ordinary minds
refinment and so far away
from you and I
I will wait on my bedded thrown
bleeding, wounded, stabbed and
alone
inject myself over and over
with this temporary happy vaccine
until I am king
and you are
Queen

Shelby Murray Dec 2013

These Paints

Shocks of purple on
My palet. Watercolours
Seep close together.
The blue comes into
Play and sends the paint away.
Green and yellow here
To stay. Orange has
Nothing left to say. Splashes
Of them all race in
A neverending
Whirlpool of emtion and
Thoughts that create a
Startling panic
That can only be silenced
By the sweep of my
Brush. Quietly I
Put paint to paper and pour
Whatever I have

Out.

Rj Sep 2017

You're the Melody

I may have taught you to dance
To put yourself in the headlights
How to laugh and be seen
But you reminded me how to dream
How to love myself, let alone
How to love someone else
You are my first text good morning
My last text goodnight
You clothe yourself in humility
And you stare through fogged lens
Perhaps that's why only you
Can make me so happy, yet so angry
That someone as fluorescent as you
Cannot see the bright colors they emit
You call yourself grey
But I call you a painters palet
The world is a muddy muddy place
And it'd be that much harder to live
Without seeing your tracks in the dirt
You've taught me that as hard,
And as challenging life can be,
It's all worth the low melodic vibrations
That create a beautiful unified hum
And without your hum, and without mine
*The world would be that much quieter

Happy birthday

Sin Dec 2015

Apocoliptic Crime

Upon this scorched earth I stand
One life just a man
Looking at the baron waste
The bomb that dropped
Now in haste

No food or water bequeathed to us
Scavengers we have become
And brown and baron greets my eyes
The palet of colours far and wide

No love or companion to guide me on
Left to roam this place
That once was home
Emptiness I feel so strong
Fighting back tears as I move on

Why was the world so greedy
Didn't even have time for the needy
Wealth and treasure's was what counts
Now just dirt and filth amounts

The finger that pressed the big red button
Safe in the knowledge they will be forgotten
Never to answer for the crime
Of killing this world and all mankind

Al Apr 2017

Cleanse

I didn't kiss him because I loved him
But because I've been doing everything possible
to cleanse you from my palet

#kiss #exes #short

Got Guanxi Dec 2015

Bluesologist

Bluesologist

Why take those shots if might miss,
******* with a new age blues protagonist,
I've never missed a shot,
Steady aim, remember the name,
Nothing personal just a part of the game,
The same game where you made your name back in the day.

I got those blues in the curves of the feathers in my hat,
And I got those blues in the black soles on my shoes,
Sent right through the body,
You can't miss me,
But you can't see me,
Electricity baby,
Bringing them back down to earth,

Wired.
If your ever home alone tired,
I'll keep you company in those lonely nights by the fire,
Until you retire into the hollowness of tomorrow,

You had all those secondary colours on your palet,
Kept safe in your palace,
But I'm primarily blue and you can't mix it up,
Those colours didn't come true,

So we just remained blue,
As I do,
Consistently blue,
Permanently true,
What you gonna do about it?

Tell me,
What are you going to do?

n/***

#none

circus clown May 2014

the summer's girl

give your body to a winter's boy-
he'll lay you down, strip your clothes
and you'll undress even further than that
but he'll leave you in the cold
and push your so far under his bed
he forgets he ever had such parts of you
in his own two hands and
never gave them back
you're frozen, now,
and you wait all spring
to find summer's girl
and all she does is hold your hand
and you're standing in a pool
of the ice melted around your skin.
next thing you know,
you're in a palet she made on the floor
on her balcony, overlooking the railroad
and the greenest forest on the other side
and it's 3 in the morning and
you're smoking a cigarette
to get rid of the taste of alcohol and sugar
but then you kiss her and
she tastes the same way.
you don't want the season to end
but you're still watching yourself
glow from the inside out.

River Sep 2017

Water

Fingers
Wrapped around
The soft spine
Of your back neck
Doused in blue
Did we run the streets,
Dripping in blue body paint?

I saw the pink roses
Pretty and thorned
My bleeding hands,
Were unforgiving
The clock
Was unforgiving
I cried that whole night.

Dreams of Africa
On a safari
Looking up at a starry night sky,
I skipped through an orchard,
Singing a child's lullaby

My mind is a reflection of madness,
But you said you wanted more,
You tasted the sadness,
Swelling from my pores
Your eyes are porcelain
Static on a screen

The hummingbirds are calling
In their iridescent beauty
They drag me by my collar,
Into a land of whimsical triviality,
Where I hum with bees,
The rainbow is my palet from which I paint
Fighting off reality,
Reveling in insanity.

Daan Dec 2022

Tijd voor avontuur

Ookal voelt het langzaam, het leven
gaat zo snel van de grote-handen-zoektocht
naar geruststellend neerwaarts kijken.

Ik dacht dat ik mijn angst en beven
in't verleden had gelaten. Toch
zie ik ze in jouw oogkleur het palet verrijken.

Het verstoppen achter benen,
het schreeuwen en het wenen
van nog niet naar huis te willen gaan
zonder je knikkers op je nieuwe oude knikkerbaan.

Ik hoop.
Ik hoop dat je tevree'd en opgelucht leert
dat de angst al afneemt met de zucht,
zoals het leven, tijdelijk,
dat elk onwengevoel passeert.

Heb moed, brave jonge puzzelaar,
je hebt 't nu al meer dan je nonkel ooit,
alles bij elkaar.

't Is altijd voor de knikkers.

JaxSpade Apr 2019

Critique

An Artist
Suffers
the hardest
Work
Pumping colors
Through his
And others
Look

At the way he brushes
The rivers brook

The flow of water
In rainbows colored
Gobbledygook

He rides his unicorn
Palet in arm
In a pink suit of velvet
And metaphors

But he suffers the hardest
As the artist of
Ridicule

— The End —