a empty space in which you can express what you desire. what your heart wants, needs and feels. A canvas is a beautiful thing as you can paint over accidents, create opportunities from mistakes and create perfection.
i already wrote about this. but oh well. i have no problem writing about it again. i like to paint a picture for y readers out there so writing about this will definitely help. i dont know what else to say.
Such a beautiful word it is. it can shape up you soul, it can melt hearts. it can fill faces with smile. how long have we been waiting for this word. we are blessed now. Beautiful, Absolutely beautiful!
I looked at the blank Canvas, staring intently with the end of the brush tapping my lip tentatively. I gave a smirk, dipped the small fine hairs into the wet paint and touched it to the board. within instants, paint spread from the tip of my brush and eventually covered the once white canvas, creating an image as from my mind.
We found Tom the next morning, still staring at his canvas. His eyes were dark, he obviously hadn’t slept.
“Tom!” I yelled, shaking him out of his stupor, “it doesn’t have to be perfect. Just paint.”
i have a white canvas and i dont know what to do with t. I think i will fill it with flowers and trees, and at the end I want it to tell a beautiful story. I ´ll hang it on my bedroom wall and will look at it every morning.
“you must understand that time is not fixed.it candidates be bent,quickened, slowed or even stopped completely.this is the canvas from which bogdan works.”
one day i dream of painting something beautiful on a giant canvas, the kind of thing people would offer me millions for, but i would not sell it, i would display it for all to see.
a blank place for me to paint out my hurt and pain. a blank place for me to go crazy and to let everything out. a blank place for the emptiness to mean something and the mess to mean even less. a place to throw things. a place to explore. a place to love. and a place to hate.
The picture had been painted on the canvas and trying to change any thing now was impossibe. You could try to paint over it but it would always be there. Just covered up by a thick paint that does no good at really hiding it, you know what lies underneath.
Its Where I Put It All Down. Its Beautiful, Without Contempt. It Teaches, it Learns. It Loves, Without Loving. I Find Solstice Here. It Reminds Me Of What I’m Supposed To Be, A Shoreline, Or A Star Filled Night. Everywhere I Wish I Was. Drawn In With Pain. I Call It Beauty
I believe that the body is not a canvas. So many people today are so excited to become 18 so they can get a tattoo. God gave you your body just the way it is. If he wanted a permanent illustration of a dragon on your forearm, then he would have made it so.
I could do anything I wanted! How exciting! But as I dipped my fingers into the paint, others started adding their own thoughts, words and actions on it.
Hmmm… how do I work around this now? My blank canvas was becoming limited. Do I paint, weave over the pre-painted parts or work around it?
I started out as a blank canvas, and slowly weaved in different textures, painted over past preconceptions, smeared some areas, with a mistaken blotch here and there. But also, I have beautiful etchings, and steady hands which guided when mine trembled.
She’s covered every canvas a million times over with images of places she’s never seen. She’s spent her whole life just dreaming, just imagining what it must be like out there beyond her tower window. When the canvases can take no more paint she takes to the walls, the floors, the ceilings, anything and everything she can get her hands on, trying to make the paint and her imagination burst through her enclosure and let her out into the light.
A white sheet stares at you. It’s blank, much like your mind when told to say something, anything, why aren’t you talking now? It’s your job to slap something on there, in paints pencils, inks, whatever you can lay your hands on. Strangely, it comes to you in a moment, this inspiration, and you begin. Happiness is made of moments like these.
The body is not a canvas. It is not something for someone to decide whether or not to put an illustration on it. God gave us our bodies just the way they are, and writing on them is disrespectful.
I have already written about canvas.
One more minute, 60 seconds gone by.
Now this poem is ending in half a minute.
I guess I will have to say goodbye.
A canvas can be so many things. Of course, everyone probably thinks of a painting first. But what about cross-stitch samplers? Or people that canvas neighborhoods to support politicians? A canvas can be a plan that is well laid out.
a canvas can be dark, it can be bright, it can be anything you want. its your portal to the creative world. you can do with it what you will and be who you want to be.
As the painter has his canvas, the writer has his paper and the blogger his post.
What matters more is not the name or the thing, but having something to write in your ideas.
a blank canvas
just for your art
endless possibilities
for where you can start
tons of colors
blues and new hues
of purples and yellows
you just can’t choose
amazing options
of what you can paint
and your mind is running
with where you should make
your next masterpiece
so set yourself up
grab your brushes
your paints
and an old water cup
let your mind me free
and let the paint glide you
be sure to sign it
it expresses whats inside you
Blank skies stretch before me; idle like a canvas. I wish to lavish the entirety of my emotions, scatter across it like splattered blood from a hot pistol every thought that ever entered my mind and keep it there on display for the entire world to gawk and contemplate and pour over and over and over.
A canvas is a blank screen or sheet of paper or something that allows you to create an image of your liking, of your choosing and make it seem how you see it through your eyes. Just like life, which is a blank canvas while you draw your life story. For some its a blank canvas, for others its a world ready to be created.
He stepped up to the canvas, looked at all he had done in all that time and new that this, this was it. It was all he needed to win her over; make it better.
He lifted the brush, stroked, and looked at the door, waiting for her to come in and tell him she’d been wrong.
Everyone starts off life with a blank canvas. And as the years go on, it grows into an intricate portrait. Jon’s canvas wasn’t full yet. He wasn’t meant to leave us already. It’s upsetting to see someone’s canvas less than half full already gone. I can’t stand it. It’s not fair.
Your mind is an open canvas for me to paint on.
I’ll probably start with red acrylic – always got yelled at by my art teacher for favoring that when I did butterflies…but it’ll wokr just fine to capture the midnight lines left by daylight on your cheeks. And the anger that burns just underneath your feet.
Your mind is an open canvas for me to paint on, and when I’m done, you won’t even recognize yourself anymore.
the canvas of my life. It flows and ebbs like a river. The brights of my existence. The darks of remorse. then again this is life and it is filled with many colors, but that’s what makes it interesting.
Canvas? A canvas is something blank, something that you need to fill. A canvas has a lot of expectations around it. We sell canvases at work, and they’re amazing. I love the way they look when they’re blank, but they’re not ready. They’re not complete. A canvas’ purpose in life is to be filled with art, with dreams, with thoughts.
I absolutely love art. This word makes me think of it and how special it is to my life. It is on canvas that I feel connected and whole, unified and creative.
Canvas feels so smooth against the tip of my paintbrush. The flimsy lines that I draw, dripping with paint cover up the burlap esque texture. The canvas clears my mind of all limitations and I am proud when the paint drys. It leaves
me feeling proud and satisfied, loved and
accomplished. Driven and determined, ready to begin again
a empty space in which you can express what you desire. what your heart wants, needs and feels. A canvas is a beautiful thing as you can paint over accidents, create opportunities from mistakes and create perfection.
i already wrote about this. but oh well. i have no problem writing about it again. i like to paint a picture for y readers out there so writing about this will definitely help. i dont know what else to say.
Such a beautiful word it is. it can shape up you soul, it can melt hearts. it can fill faces with smile. how long have we been waiting for this word. we are blessed now. Beautiful, Absolutely beautiful!
I looked at the blank Canvas, staring intently with the end of the brush tapping my lip tentatively. I gave a smirk, dipped the small fine hairs into the wet paint and touched it to the board. within instants, paint spread from the tip of my brush and eventually covered the once white canvas, creating an image as from my mind.
We found Tom the next morning, still staring at his canvas. His eyes were dark, he obviously hadn’t slept.
“Tom!” I yelled, shaking him out of his stupor, “it doesn’t have to be perfect. Just paint.”
i have a white canvas and i dont know what to do with t. I think i will fill it with flowers and trees, and at the end I want it to tell a beautiful story. I ´ll hang it on my bedroom wall and will look at it every morning.
“you must understand that time is not fixed.it can be bent,quickened,slowed or even stopped completely.it is from this canvas which bogdan works.”
Once a poney felt loney.
It assumed – the cast aw
Mark me with bites
on a canvas of
ginger and mint
smell me
in your cotton sheets
in the morning
“you must understand that time is not fixed.it candidates be bent,quickened, slowed or even stopped completely.this is the canvas from which bogdan works.”
one day i dream of painting something beautiful on a giant canvas, the kind of thing people would offer me millions for, but i would not sell it, i would display it for all to see.
Empty canvas don´t think one day I´m gonna paint something on you, I like you plain, empty, endless… I like you the way you are, I like you white.
a blank canvas always you to start all over again. to be creative and start a new. A blank canvas always you to think
a blank place for me to paint out my hurt and pain. a blank place for me to go crazy and to let everything out. a blank place for the emptiness to mean something and the mess to mean even less. a place to throw things. a place to explore. a place to love. and a place to hate.
I paint on you all day with my brain on mute and my brush screaming…everything
sex sex sex
The picture had been painted on the canvas and trying to change any thing now was impossibe. You could try to paint over it but it would always be there. Just covered up by a thick paint that does no good at really hiding it, you know what lies underneath.
Its Where I Put It All Down. Its Beautiful, Without Contempt. It Teaches, it Learns. It Loves, Without Loving. I Find Solstice Here. It Reminds Me Of What I’m Supposed To Be, A Shoreline, Or A Star Filled Night. Everywhere I Wish I Was. Drawn In With Pain. I Call It Beauty
I believe that the body is not a canvas. So many people today are so excited to become 18 so they can get a tattoo. God gave you your body just the way it is. If he wanted a permanent illustration of a dragon on your forearm, then he would have made it so.
A blank canvas.
I could do anything I wanted! How exciting! But as I dipped my fingers into the paint, others started adding their own thoughts, words and actions on it.
Hmmm… how do I work around this now? My blank canvas was becoming limited. Do I paint, weave over the pre-painted parts or work around it?
I started out as a blank canvas, and slowly weaved in different textures, painted over past preconceptions, smeared some areas, with a mistaken blotch here and there. But also, I have beautiful etchings, and steady hands which guided when mine trembled.
the world is painted tainted with my impressions perceptions inventions interactions. i am artist.
She’s covered every canvas a million times over with images of places she’s never seen. She’s spent her whole life just dreaming, just imagining what it must be like out there beyond her tower window. When the canvases can take no more paint she takes to the walls, the floors, the ceilings, anything and everything she can get her hands on, trying to make the paint and her imagination burst through her enclosure and let her out into the light.
A white sheet stares at you. It’s blank, much like your mind when told to say something, anything, why aren’t you talking now? It’s your job to slap something on there, in paints pencils, inks, whatever you can lay your hands on. Strangely, it comes to you in a moment, this inspiration, and you begin. Happiness is made of moments like these.
The body is not a canvas. It is not something for someone to decide whether or not to put an illustration on it. God gave us our bodies just the way they are, and writing on them is disrespectful.
I have already written about canvas.
One more minute, 60 seconds gone by.
Now this poem is ending in half a minute.
I guess I will have to say goodbye.
A canvas can be so many things. Of course, everyone probably thinks of a painting first. But what about cross-stitch samplers? Or people that canvas neighborhoods to support politicians? A canvas can be a plan that is well laid out.
a canvas can be dark, it can be bright, it can be anything you want. its your portal to the creative world. you can do with it what you will and be who you want to be.
PINTURA OLEO ACRILICO LEONARDO DA VINCI TODO RELACIONADO A PINTURA, PINCELES, BLANCO, TELA, BASTIDOR, VERDE, AZUL, ROJO, AMARILLO, PIGMENTOS, ACUARELA.
As the painter has his canvas, the writer has his paper and the blogger his post.
What matters more is not the name or the thing, but having something to write in your ideas.
a blank canvas
just for your art
endless possibilities
for where you can start
tons of colors
blues and new hues
of purples and yellows
you just can’t choose
amazing options
of what you can paint
and your mind is running
with where you should make
your next masterpiece
so set yourself up
grab your brushes
your paints
and an old water cup
let your mind me free
and let the paint glide you
be sure to sign it
it expresses whats inside you
© LL
artists. loving. creating. creation. living. dreaming. opportunity. astounding. insightful.
Blank skies stretch before me; idle like a canvas. I wish to lavish the entirety of my emotions, scatter across it like splattered blood from a hot pistol every thought that ever entered my mind and keep it there on display for the entire world to gawk and contemplate and pour over and over and over.
A canvas is a blank screen or sheet of paper or something that allows you to create an image of your liking, of your choosing and make it seem how you see it through your eyes. Just like life, which is a blank canvas while you draw your life story. For some its a blank canvas, for others its a world ready to be created.
He stepped up to the canvas, looked at all he had done in all that time and new that this, this was it. It was all he needed to win her over; make it better.
He lifted the brush, stroked, and looked at the door, waiting for her to come in and tell him she’d been wrong.
The paint strokes seem to slip and fall all about the neat art of the previous. I think to myself.
What have I become, in order to do this?
Everyone starts off life with a blank canvas. And as the years go on, it grows into an intricate portrait. Jon’s canvas wasn’t full yet. He wasn’t meant to leave us already. It’s upsetting to see someone’s canvas less than half full already gone. I can’t stand it. It’s not fair.
Your mind is an open canvas for me to paint on.
I’ll probably start with red acrylic – always got yelled at by my art teacher for favoring that when I did butterflies…but it’ll wokr just fine to capture the midnight lines left by daylight on your cheeks. And the anger that burns just underneath your feet.
Your mind is an open canvas for me to paint on, and when I’m done, you won’t even recognize yourself anymore.
Blank, open, available, possible, choices, fill it up;
Like your life.
the canvas of my life. It flows and ebbs like a river. The brights of my existence. The darks of remorse. then again this is life and it is filled with many colors, but that’s what makes it interesting.
Canvas? A canvas is something blank, something that you need to fill. A canvas has a lot of expectations around it. We sell canvases at work, and they’re amazing. I love the way they look when they’re blank, but they’re not ready. They’re not complete. A canvas’ purpose in life is to be filled with art, with dreams, with thoughts.
I absolutely love art. This word makes me think of it and how special it is to my life. It is on canvas that I feel connected and whole, unified and creative.
Canvas feels so smooth against the tip of my paintbrush. The flimsy lines that I draw, dripping with paint cover up the burlap esque texture. The canvas clears my mind of all limitations and I am proud when the paint drys. It leaves
me feeling proud and satisfied, loved and
accomplished. Driven and determined, ready to begin again