I painted a painting. It was a painting of my dog. I love my dog. I would paint a million pictures of my dog. She’s a she. I painted her with brown paint, although she’s a black and white dog. I didn’t have white paint. Brown was fine. I will hang this painting in my room.
Elisma
The woman’s face had lavender stripes that made her look like a harlequin or nymph. Her hair was chestnut, tied into two braids and twisted into a pair of large, metal nuts.
The canvas was vast. Empty. Expansive. Intimidating. It made my knees tremble and my hands falter at their brushes, weak with uncertainty.
The sun traced its path across the California sky, a long, neat arc.
The canvas was painted. The canvas was conquered.
Emma
pretty colors filled the room instantly. I knew what I had been doing right all these years, and it was waiting for these colors to take place. I have been waiting for the perfect person to help me see what I was blind to before. The world no longer drifted with grays and shades of black, but was full of oranges, greens, reds and blues.
Lauren
I’ve painted a lot of things through out my life, since I was little I painted drawings. And I basically love painting! It’s fun, and you can use as many colors as you want and you can use your imagination. I love it.
painted on the wall, the story of two kids without name, without parents, without hope. Painted on the wall, a story without happy endings, droped tears from the ocean.
Beky
The painted kitchen floor was peeling from years of little feet running in circles around the island. Mom often thought of refinishing the floor, but what would be the point now?
mb
Painted ladies that’s what they’re called. I don’t really understand the term cause usually they’re very round and robust everything that women don’t want to be. The colors often leave a little to be desired as well. Is it possible that when the term started those colors, wild and loud, and women, round and robust were considered in style?
painted is a verb. we have not painted our house for a long time. think we should do it. our office was painted recently. think painting should be done once in two years. i need to get my bike painted as well. current paint is bland. world painted blood is not a very good album that slayer made,
abhi
She painted a picture of her life. The sun was setting. Everything was perfect. He was down on one knee, proposing that they were meant to be. The painting hangs on their wall. As they gaze at it together
Jasmine
life can be painted as u want and things we do. and it reflects about your character and way of living. paint the life as wonderful as u can n leave example to others
Rishi Kumar Gandhi
umm….painted turtles, and then I was so surprised to find that soft-shell turtle that one time, and I kept poking him a little w/ my finger to make sure he was really soft. painted that mural at southwest. painted that big painting of me by the trees. which corie didn’t like very much, i don’t know why. what else is painted. painted ponies. painted faces. i think of indians for some reason. and the cave men.
It was just a painted picture, a fake love that looked so real while I was in it. But as I stepped back I saw how fake it really was, how you were just an illustration of something good. In the end it was all just a lie.
The house was painted and ready for sale. The young couple looked around, realizing for the first time what they were going to be leaving. This was the first place they had lived after they got married. They brought their first child to live in the bedroom down the hall.
Karen Greenberg
Artist will alwais paint, will always create and will always feel like there´s not enough art in his/her artwork. But we are all artists. Also, i´m an artist for creating this stupid artistic text and sharing it with you. Enjoy my love for art. Also, see this. I just got to write twice in the same text. Am I an artist? or I just cheated ?! try copy-paste from a word document. Don´t know if it works. But sounds interesting. I love art. Photography, drawings, paintings, everyghing.
Lorena
i painted a fish today it was blue. it was very pretty. i painted a viel today. i dont know what that means! to paint is different from making art. not everyone who paints can make art and not every one who makes art can paint. i had a dream that ran along those lines. i thought about somethingggg
zebra
i would paint the world with colors so that the opponents are camouflaged from each others
. there would always be love no hstred.
vik
Which way up for goodness sake why would you put it on the table when the bottoms wet -mn not my bottom you idiot = the pot – the box that I put on the top for the crocks – the frocks your mother gave you to be given in- they were painted -and decorated – like her in fact… 0 how dare you – pain -ted.. as in – yes syes yes painted like a …..
she painted her face with makeup to hide all the flaws; all the insecurities, all the lines, all the uncertainties, all the stresses of life. every day she painted over her tired canvas. but there were the rare beautiful days, in which she put down her brushes and walked around strong, with no paint at all.
I’ve already had painted soon enough, this word it means so much. If you say an image is worth a thousand words, then one word is worth so much more. Painted is a set of images put together. You can imagine a white walled room being painted, fresh oils, transparent watercolours.
‘little red wagon painted blue’ – where do these things come from, my head is full of weird lyrics and I’ve found music hall ditties and nursery rhymes and rock anthems and hymns bundled up there, music is quite dangerous the way it worms ideas into you without you knowing, I got Ben a li’l red wagon, I think I loved it more than him always, it’s not painted blue, I loved that when things are painted they haven’t stop being what they once were. I’m what you see now, but equally I’m what I was before I was painted, what you see is only part of what you get
geraldine
He painted over his eyes and stepped back to watch as she changed. He moved the paintbrush over her hair and and her lips, and saw the light in her eyes fade, and slowly disappear.
Then she became one of them, the pretty, pastel-colored dolls that stood proudly in his collection.
People always complimented him on how lifelike his handiwork was.
You go live my life
While I paint my nails
and obstrustive red
to distract from the pain
Of you
your long lean form
stumbling into the lime light
Blinking
Live my life
I’ll wait behind
With my painted nails
And guide you on.
I grabbed my paint brush and swept it across the page, watching the colours glob and then fade. I was never a good painter, but it sure was pretty. Maybe splattering paint was better, though.
Whatever he paints comes to live. It’s a gift, say some. It’s a burden, say others. The truth lies, as so often, in the middle. LAST WORD
Ballaballa
Light, filtering in through the blinds, dotting my canvas as I painted. His dark complexion, penetrating across the rough disturbance of the blank surface, lit my brush as it flowed from structure to structure;
She touched his cheekbones, his lips, his chin, and made her way back to his eyes. Those striking azure eyes, like God had painted the sky into his soul.
Edna
The house was painted blue. A bright blue, like the sky. So bright it hurt her eyes. Instantly she hated it. What a horrible color she thought. Why would anyone paint a house like that? She thought about scraping off the paint, making the house a soft yellow or a deep green. What a difference that would make.
she herself was painted like her art works, colors under her nails, smudged across her face and over her hands. She looked down at her creation and smiled vibrantly at me, the sunlight catching in her green eyes, holding me. It was minutes before I realized the painting was of me.
Daniel
You painted my heart with love and care.
I painted our future with hope and dreams.
We painted ourselves a home filled with happiness.
She sighed. What was her life supposed to be like? Without her paints, she was nothing. Art is what she is — who she is. It was her life. Painting wasn’t just a mindless hobby or chore. It was a way of expressing herself. And her thoughts that she couldn’t put into words. She stood back and stared at the wall, her “gallery.” Now that they’ve removed her paints, she could only look at what she painted.
Lisa V.
Painted crudely. That’s how she looked. Trying to keep my own face straight was becoming more difficult by the second.
“So do you like it?”
It was excruciating. I felt the smile crack and within seconds the overwhelming sound of rolling laughter spewed forth.
The sky looks like it’s pained. A magical color for all to see. To look at the painted sky in this wonderful setting I feel very fortunate. I feel full of life and appreciative for the life I have. I feel ready to go out and paint my own future, paint my own romance, and paint my very own landscape.
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they’re all painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day….
lalalalalalalalalalala I so love this song :-) Wonderful to paint the night red!
splashes of color flick across my face from the lights outside as i speed home from work. much of life is like that – splashes of color from other people’s lives, thoughts, ideas, emotions…all painting the face you present to the world.
The painted writing on the wall almost glowed in the dark. He could read in bright red letters: “The end is here!” Steve picked up his gun again. Whoever wrote that did not know HIM.
Last year I painted my wall. Chocolate brown! Such a nice color. I was really looking forward doing it, because it wasn’t sure that I could stay in that house. So as soon as I found out I could stay, I ran to the Gamma en bought a bucket of paint! :D
Lonneke
images stamped
words painted
tattooed in my head
water running through
the river too quick
let me go instead
run free
run wild
this is it
it’s my night
hello there
how do you do
isn’t it so lovely
that i met you
I painted a painting. It was a painting of my dog. I love my dog. I would paint a million pictures of my dog. She’s a she. I painted her with brown paint, although she’s a black and white dog. I didn’t have white paint. Brown was fine. I will hang this painting in my room.
The woman’s face had lavender stripes that made her look like a harlequin or nymph. Her hair was chestnut, tied into two braids and twisted into a pair of large, metal nuts.
The canvas was vast. Empty. Expansive. Intimidating. It made my knees tremble and my hands falter at their brushes, weak with uncertainty.
The sun traced its path across the California sky, a long, neat arc.
The canvas was painted. The canvas was conquered.
pretty colors filled the room instantly. I knew what I had been doing right all these years, and it was waiting for these colors to take place. I have been waiting for the perfect person to help me see what I was blind to before. The world no longer drifted with grays and shades of black, but was full of oranges, greens, reds and blues.
I’ve painted a lot of things through out my life, since I was little I painted drawings. And I basically love painting! It’s fun, and you can use as many colors as you want and you can use your imagination. I love it.
painted on the wall, the story of two kids without name, without parents, without hope. Painted on the wall, a story without happy endings, droped tears from the ocean.
The painted kitchen floor was peeling from years of little feet running in circles around the island. Mom often thought of refinishing the floor, but what would be the point now?
Painted ladies that’s what they’re called. I don’t really understand the term cause usually they’re very round and robust everything that women don’t want to be. The colors often leave a little to be desired as well. Is it possible that when the term started those colors, wild and loud, and women, round and robust were considered in style?
painted is a verb. we have not painted our house for a long time. think we should do it. our office was painted recently. think painting should be done once in two years. i need to get my bike painted as well. current paint is bland. world painted blood is not a very good album that slayer made,
She painted a picture of her life. The sun was setting. Everything was perfect. He was down on one knee, proposing that they were meant to be. The painting hangs on their wall. As they gaze at it together
life can be painted as u want and things we do. and it reflects about your character and way of living. paint the life as wonderful as u can n leave example to others
umm….painted turtles, and then I was so surprised to find that soft-shell turtle that one time, and I kept poking him a little w/ my finger to make sure he was really soft. painted that mural at southwest. painted that big painting of me by the trees. which corie didn’t like very much, i don’t know why. what else is painted. painted ponies. painted faces. i think of indians for some reason. and the cave men.
It was just a painted picture, a fake love that looked so real while I was in it. But as I stepped back I saw how fake it really was, how you were just an illustration of something good. In the end it was all just a lie.
The house was painted and ready for sale. The young couple looked around, realizing for the first time what they were going to be leaving. This was the first place they had lived after they got married. They brought their first child to live in the bedroom down the hall.
Artist will alwais paint, will always create and will always feel like there´s not enough art in his/her artwork. But we are all artists. Also, i´m an artist for creating this stupid artistic text and sharing it with you. Enjoy my love for art. Also, see this. I just got to write twice in the same text. Am I an artist? or I just cheated ?! try copy-paste from a word document. Don´t know if it works. But sounds interesting. I love art. Photography, drawings, paintings, everyghing.
i painted a fish today it was blue. it was very pretty. i painted a viel today. i dont know what that means! to paint is different from making art. not everyone who paints can make art and not every one who makes art can paint. i had a dream that ran along those lines. i thought about somethingggg
i would paint the world with colors so that the opponents are camouflaged from each others
. there would always be love no hstred.
Which way up for goodness sake why would you put it on the table when the bottoms wet -mn not my bottom you idiot = the pot – the box that I put on the top for the crocks – the frocks your mother gave you to be given in- they were painted -and decorated – like her in fact… 0 how dare you – pain -ted.. as in – yes syes yes painted like a …..
i painted my nail a jack skellington ..and it was awesome.. i really like.. black and white is the color.. so yeah..lol thats it
she painted her face with makeup to hide all the flaws; all the insecurities, all the lines, all the uncertainties, all the stresses of life. every day she painted over her tired canvas. but there were the rare beautiful days, in which she put down her brushes and walked around strong, with no paint at all.
I’ve already had painted soon enough, this word it means so much. If you say an image is worth a thousand words, then one word is worth so much more. Painted is a set of images put together. You can imagine a white walled room being painted, fresh oils, transparent watercolours.
‘little red wagon painted blue’ – where do these things come from, my head is full of weird lyrics and I’ve found music hall ditties and nursery rhymes and rock anthems and hymns bundled up there, music is quite dangerous the way it worms ideas into you without you knowing, I got Ben a li’l red wagon, I think I loved it more than him always, it’s not painted blue, I loved that when things are painted they haven’t stop being what they once were. I’m what you see now, but equally I’m what I was before I was painted, what you see is only part of what you get
He painted over his eyes and stepped back to watch as she changed. He moved the paintbrush over her hair and and her lips, and saw the light in her eyes fade, and slowly disappear.
Then she became one of them, the pretty, pastel-colored dolls that stood proudly in his collection.
People always complimented him on how lifelike his handiwork was.
You go live my life
While I paint my nails
and obstrustive red
to distract from the pain
Of you
your long lean form
stumbling into the lime light
Blinking
Live my life
I’ll wait behind
With my painted nails
And guide you on.
I grabbed my paint brush and swept it across the page, watching the colours glob and then fade. I was never a good painter, but it sure was pretty. Maybe splattering paint was better, though.
painted pictures of the lover he once knew. they all sat out in front of him, taunting him. she was gone, but she would never leave his heart.
Whatever he paints comes to live. It’s a gift, say some. It’s a burden, say others. The truth lies, as so often, in the middle. LAST WORD
Light, filtering in through the blinds, dotting my canvas as I painted. His dark complexion, penetrating across the rough disturbance of the blank surface, lit my brush as it flowed from structure to structure;
She touched his cheekbones, his lips, his chin, and made her way back to his eyes. Those striking azure eyes, like God had painted the sky into his soul.
The house was painted blue. A bright blue, like the sky. So bright it hurt her eyes. Instantly she hated it. What a horrible color she thought. Why would anyone paint a house like that? She thought about scraping off the paint, making the house a soft yellow or a deep green. What a difference that would make.
she herself was painted like her art works, colors under her nails, smudged across her face and over her hands. She looked down at her creation and smiled vibrantly at me, the sunlight catching in her green eyes, holding me. It was minutes before I realized the painting was of me.
You painted my heart with love and care.
I painted our future with hope and dreams.
We painted ourselves a home filled with happiness.
She sighed. What was her life supposed to be like? Without her paints, she was nothing. Art is what she is — who she is. It was her life. Painting wasn’t just a mindless hobby or chore. It was a way of expressing herself. And her thoughts that she couldn’t put into words. She stood back and stared at the wall, her “gallery.” Now that they’ve removed her paints, she could only look at what she painted.
Painted crudely. That’s how she looked. Trying to keep my own face straight was becoming more difficult by the second.
“So do you like it?”
It was excruciating. I felt the smile crack and within seconds the overwhelming sound of rolling laughter spewed forth.
The sky looks like it’s pained. A magical color for all to see. To look at the painted sky in this wonderful setting I feel very fortunate. I feel full of life and appreciative for the life I have. I feel ready to go out and paint my own future, paint my own romance, and paint my very own landscape.
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they’re all painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day….
lalalalalalalalalalala I so love this song :-) Wonderful to paint the night red!
splashes of color flick across my face from the lights outside as i speed home from work. much of life is like that – splashes of color from other people’s lives, thoughts, ideas, emotions…all painting the face you present to the world.
The painted writing on the wall almost glowed in the dark. He could read in bright red letters: “The end is here!” Steve picked up his gun again. Whoever wrote that did not know HIM.
Last year I painted my wall. Chocolate brown! Such a nice color. I was really looking forward doing it, because it wasn’t sure that I could stay in that house. So as soon as I found out I could stay, I ran to the Gamma en bought a bucket of paint! :D
images stamped
words painted
tattooed in my head
water running through
the river too quick
let me go instead
run free
run wild
this is it
it’s my night
hello there
how do you do
isn’t it so lovely
that i met you