I see the paintbrush mocking me again, waiting for me to touch up the bathroom, repaint the hallway, save the old table from the trash heap. I’m too tired. I turn away. The paintbrush will have to wait another day.
Susan @ 2kop
A flick of his paintbrush.
It was done. After all these years of work, his masterpiece was done.
He stepped back and looked at it for a moment.
A casement lay open above him and a shard of light his the painting.
His icy stare hardened and he began to hammer every detail to see what it was.
His stare melted away and he sighed,
“I guess it isn’t what I thought it was…”
He moved on to his next panel.
Nick Matherne
She touched the paintbrush to every place except the canvas. It brushed her lips, her eyelids, her fingertips as she thought. The canvas, though, still remained empty. It’s pure whiteness frightened her. She didn’t know if she could create something amazing out of something so… devoid.
Rhane Yarbrough
There was a paintbrush sitting at the end of the table. Julia stared at the paintbrush and what it represented to her. What she left behind, the daughter she was doing this all for. “Here goes nothing” thought Julia. There was a delay in her actions…
Kristin DiSanti
Slowly, he placed the paint brush on the counter. It dripped blue onto the floor as he stared at his canvas.It rolled as he carefully picked up his masterpiece and moved it to his drying table. The paintbrush fell on the floor as he capped his paints. It was kicked under the desk as he walked to the sink to wash his hands.
The paintbrush collected dust as he became famous from the painting.
Katherine
With an old paintbrush and some dried out watercolors she sat down near the creek and pulled out her last piece of paper. She needed to leave a message and a picture was the best way.
Cynthia Davidson
it is used to make beautiful paintings it makes pretty colors come alive paint paint paint brushes help make strokes even and thin or thick in the end it is a tool to help with elements unknown. and its been around for ages:]
Abigail
I wish I was covered in color. I’d roll on the world like it’s a white sheet of canvas. I’d leave my rainbows everywhere.
r.a.
paint brush
The folicals of a foresaken mare…
It peers into my soul
and i feel myself becoming translucent
xxxsteelvoltaxxx
what？artiest？I don’t like this tool to draw any thing.
L
I hate painting. It’s messy and sometimes it gives me a headache. It’s also a bitch to clean the brush, especially if you forget the damn thing and wait until it dries. That said, I like change, and I like my environment to change; it helps me change as a person and how I feel about myself. So on that note, I love painting. Because with each new stroke, I feel different, my room is different, and my life is different.
Melanie Miller
And i took it into my hand, because with it, i can create something beautiful, unique, special. I put everything i have into it, because with every brushstroke, it’s a part of me that’s going into it, and i can’t help feeling love for the little images take shape on the page. Just another painting on the wall.
Dee
willem on his floor
pollock ripping off
the undersea
I have you
to give me
portraits in the deeps
that fathom not
& fathom even
naughtier; rothko
squires his visibility
away
in houston’s dank,
while
pixilations run
rampant
down
the street of cy
twombly’s back
door. I would
climb back down
the ladder to see
you,
to know
the rest,
to ask if now
is
our plenty.
paschal
If I could ride a paintbrush to the moon I would. Hop on and leave my troubles behind in beautiful rainbow colors. If only the pencil would move out of the way. Jealous bastard.
Anonymous
The paintbrush never touched the canvas. I couldn’t force my hand to move towards the perfect, bare surface. Too afraid of marring it with whatever I might be able to create. I need to get over my fear of failing. Creation is creation. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be.
Anonymous
I don’t use a paintbrush very often because I’m not an artist. But for artists it can help to release your soul onto paper.
Slurpee
The young lady stroked. The paint fell upon the canvas. She did not blink, nor flinch, nor hesitate. The canvas was alive. A God.
Lee
It was as though time had ceased. The paintbrush fell from the open hand of artist, Miza Leroy. The canvas was covered with layers and combinations of blues. Blue like the sky, like the ocean, like his eyes… She couldn’t understand why the canvas was filled with truth. A truth bottled up inside. Her tears were all the same colors.
Zin
The paintbrush trails along her skin, making her giggle. I want to paint you, I tell her. Like on a canvas? No, with you as the canvas. Okay, she says, rolling onto her back. I spread the paint across her chest and stomach like a tattoo.
Alex
i love to paint, i actually just got a enw paintbursh todya, it’s my favorite one, it’s big and it’s easy to use becuase it helps me blend a lot of colours together, i haven’t gotten the chance to use it yet, but i will maybe tomorrow if i stay home from school, but i dont know yet, because im feeling really sick, and i dont want to go to school. but hopefully my nmom won’t make me go!
vhj
the paintbrush drags slowly against the grain of the sky, pulling the suns last red ray below the horizon.
peteypetepetepete
i wish I could fill this space with the beauty of a painting by Picasso, but i could only ever get the abstract without the meaningful beauty.
danny o
If I write I employ the paintbrush of my work sfjfj
Anonymous
I stood, staring contemplatively at the blank canvas in front of me. I had a paintbrush in my hand, but I couldn’t think of anything. Nothing spoke to me. Not until I walked outside and saw the huge, empty wall of the old building on the street corner. Then, then I made art. With one little paintbrush.
elaina
change a color, change a mood.
SLo
my words create things, stuff, actions, intentions, launch ideas. this is my medium, my paintbrush. options abound
michael wink
I need to paint with my brush, a brush to use to paint. We name it a brush and you use it to create as we call it our paintbrush….
Jeanne
I use a paintbrush with everything i do.
Jeanne
i like to paint. the brush making colors across a blank page. emotions swirling about colliding and meshing together. images are created. stories are made. my paintbrush is my tool. is ally. paintbrush.
Kayla Smith
Hiram tilted the paintbrush at a precise angle, careful not to drip any of the high dollar paint onto the dropcloth. He prided himself in the fact that only a minsicule amount of paint
Bill Kirby
Colour, movement, light, dark, love, destruction.
All can be made with just a stroke of paint from the brush.
Tally
love expression of feeling. i really want to piant now thanks
Anonymous
paint brushes are what you use to paint. You usually put different colors on them, and make art on a piece of canvas placed on an easel. Some artist think that the art brush is an inferior being, they call it modern art. I call it a mess.
A-Rog
paintbrush, something i can use to paint the way my love burns for you. With it i will splatter the colors of my undying affection across the universe of stars and galaxies and unseen things only brought to life by my paintbrush of mind.
Brooklyn
You just go across the canvas and create a feeling of your own. Moving along you fall deeper and deeper into the detail and beauty of what will become your masterpiece.
Kyle Carlson
paint my life in broad green strokes that wash over the sands as they grind against the canvas of my heart scratching grey under bright trees of hope.
kuikoo
one word, something you can say to someone and it’ll mean so much. One word, something that will forever mean more than you can know. One word.
Brooke.
if I pick it up, colours will come out and blend with the white. I will make a pattern to colour your room, using my body as the brush. The paint is sticky, but the brush scratches your skin.
Vee
This is how I see the world. I try to paint it the way I see it, but sometimes I have the wrong color. I think if I painted the world with different paintbrushes, perhaps I could see the individual objects of my eye better, but i tend to paint everything with just one paintbrush, the one that puts my own spin on everything, so I don’t really see it for what it really is
Tony
i use my paintbrush to paint a tree in the colors of the world, the space. i draw stars, shelves. i draw birds, i draw guitares. they sing and they chant melodies of othewrworldly species, like humblebees and catterpillars.
I see the paintbrush mocking me again, waiting for me to touch up the bathroom, repaint the hallway, save the old table from the trash heap. I’m too tired. I turn away. The paintbrush will have to wait another day.
A flick of his paintbrush.
It was done. After all these years of work, his masterpiece was done.
He stepped back and looked at it for a moment.
A casement lay open above him and a shard of light his the painting.
His icy stare hardened and he began to hammer every detail to see what it was.
His stare melted away and he sighed,
“I guess it isn’t what I thought it was…”
He moved on to his next panel.
She touched the paintbrush to every place except the canvas. It brushed her lips, her eyelids, her fingertips as she thought. The canvas, though, still remained empty. It’s pure whiteness frightened her. She didn’t know if she could create something amazing out of something so… devoid.
There was a paintbrush sitting at the end of the table. Julia stared at the paintbrush and what it represented to her. What she left behind, the daughter she was doing this all for. “Here goes nothing” thought Julia. There was a delay in her actions…
Slowly, he placed the paint brush on the counter. It dripped blue onto the floor as he stared at his canvas.It rolled as he carefully picked up his masterpiece and moved it to his drying table. The paintbrush fell on the floor as he capped his paints. It was kicked under the desk as he walked to the sink to wash his hands.
The paintbrush collected dust as he became famous from the painting.
With an old paintbrush and some dried out watercolors she sat down near the creek and pulled out her last piece of paper. She needed to leave a message and a picture was the best way.
it is used to make beautiful paintings it makes pretty colors come alive paint paint paint brushes help make strokes even and thin or thick in the end it is a tool to help with elements unknown. and its been around for ages:]
I wish I was covered in color. I’d roll on the world like it’s a white sheet of canvas. I’d leave my rainbows everywhere.
paint brush
The folicals of a foresaken mare…
It peers into my soul
and i feel myself becoming translucent
what？artiest？I don’t like this tool to draw any thing.
I hate painting. It’s messy and sometimes it gives me a headache. It’s also a bitch to clean the brush, especially if you forget the damn thing and wait until it dries. That said, I like change, and I like my environment to change; it helps me change as a person and how I feel about myself. So on that note, I love painting. Because with each new stroke, I feel different, my room is different, and my life is different.
And i took it into my hand, because with it, i can create something beautiful, unique, special. I put everything i have into it, because with every brushstroke, it’s a part of me that’s going into it, and i can’t help feeling love for the little images take shape on the page. Just another painting on the wall.
willem on his floor
pollock ripping off
the undersea
I have you
to give me
portraits in the deeps
that fathom not
& fathom even
naughtier; rothko
squires his visibility
away
in houston’s dank,
while
pixilations run
rampant
down
the street of cy
twombly’s back
door. I would
climb back down
the ladder to see
you,
to know
the rest,
to ask if now
is
our plenty.
If I could ride a paintbrush to the moon I would. Hop on and leave my troubles behind in beautiful rainbow colors. If only the pencil would move out of the way. Jealous bastard.
The paintbrush never touched the canvas. I couldn’t force my hand to move towards the perfect, bare surface. Too afraid of marring it with whatever I might be able to create. I need to get over my fear of failing. Creation is creation. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be.
I don’t use a paintbrush very often because I’m not an artist. But for artists it can help to release your soul onto paper.
The young lady stroked. The paint fell upon the canvas. She did not blink, nor flinch, nor hesitate. The canvas was alive. A God.
It was as though time had ceased. The paintbrush fell from the open hand of artist, Miza Leroy. The canvas was covered with layers and combinations of blues. Blue like the sky, like the ocean, like his eyes… She couldn’t understand why the canvas was filled with truth. A truth bottled up inside. Her tears were all the same colors.
The paintbrush trails along her skin, making her giggle. I want to paint you, I tell her. Like on a canvas? No, with you as the canvas. Okay, she says, rolling onto her back. I spread the paint across her chest and stomach like a tattoo.
i love to paint, i actually just got a enw paintbursh todya, it’s my favorite one, it’s big and it’s easy to use becuase it helps me blend a lot of colours together, i haven’t gotten the chance to use it yet, but i will maybe tomorrow if i stay home from school, but i dont know yet, because im feeling really sick, and i dont want to go to school. but hopefully my nmom won’t make me go!
the paintbrush drags slowly against the grain of the sky, pulling the suns last red ray below the horizon.
i wish I could fill this space with the beauty of a painting by Picasso, but i could only ever get the abstract without the meaningful beauty.
If I write I employ the paintbrush of my work sfjfj
I stood, staring contemplatively at the blank canvas in front of me. I had a paintbrush in my hand, but I couldn’t think of anything. Nothing spoke to me. Not until I walked outside and saw the huge, empty wall of the old building on the street corner. Then, then I made art. With one little paintbrush.
change a color, change a mood.
my words create things, stuff, actions, intentions, launch ideas. this is my medium, my paintbrush. options abound
I need to paint with my brush, a brush to use to paint. We name it a brush and you use it to create as we call it our paintbrush….
I use a paintbrush with everything i do.
i like to paint. the brush making colors across a blank page. emotions swirling about colliding and meshing together. images are created. stories are made. my paintbrush is my tool. is ally. paintbrush.
Hiram tilted the paintbrush at a precise angle, careful not to drip any of the high dollar paint onto the dropcloth. He prided himself in the fact that only a minsicule amount of paint
Colour, movement, light, dark, love, destruction.
All can be made with just a stroke of paint from the brush.
love expression of feeling. i really want to piant now thanks
paint brushes are what you use to paint. You usually put different colors on them, and make art on a piece of canvas placed on an easel. Some artist think that the art brush is an inferior being, they call it modern art. I call it a mess.
paintbrush, something i can use to paint the way my love burns for you. With it i will splatter the colors of my undying affection across the universe of stars and galaxies and unseen things only brought to life by my paintbrush of mind.
You just go across the canvas and create a feeling of your own. Moving along you fall deeper and deeper into the detail and beauty of what will become your masterpiece.
paint my life in broad green strokes that wash over the sands as they grind against the canvas of my heart scratching grey under bright trees of hope.
one word, something you can say to someone and it’ll mean so much. One word, something that will forever mean more than you can know. One word.
if I pick it up, colours will come out and blend with the white. I will make a pattern to colour your room, using my body as the brush. The paint is sticky, but the brush scratches your skin.
This is how I see the world. I try to paint it the way I see it, but sometimes I have the wrong color. I think if I painted the world with different paintbrushes, perhaps I could see the individual objects of my eye better, but i tend to paint everything with just one paintbrush, the one that puts my own spin on everything, so I don’t really see it for what it really is
i use my paintbrush to paint a tree in the colors of the world, the space. i draw stars, shelves. i draw birds, i draw guitares. they sing and they chant melodies of othewrworldly species, like humblebees and catterpillars.