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Rupi Kaur #milkandhoney                                                                                                                                                                                 More

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Tyler Knott Gregson - Typewriter Series #692 by Tyler Knott Gregson

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Typewriter Series #692 by Tyler Knott Gregson

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Size: 5 x 7
Outer Verse:
I walked with the wind

and felt my feet lifted higher

than I was told I could ever go.

I danced with the wind

and felt my heart beat with the rhythm of

passion, strength and truth.

I ran with the wind and felt my spirit

become the wings that I needed to fly.

Blank inside

Please click the image to see the entire card.

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Walk With the Wind - Poetic Art - By Roxane Tracey

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Size: 5 x 7 Outer Verse: I walked with the wind and felt my feet lifted higher than I was told I could ever go. I danced with the wind and felt my heart beat with the rhythm of passion, strength and truth.

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To be a patron of your art,
In waking, sleeping play a part,
In one sweet dream, God dreams for you;
Though not my will, but His, be true.

And if by chance I see your face,
Or find a dream inside your space,
Where art and poems overlap?
Perchance my poem finds your lap!
Then let me die for bliss like this
Is never found in lover's kiss!

To touch a soul is like fine wine,
What need have I for Valentine,
But ponder this (days you feel blue)
My heart's a place with room for you!

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I am stripes on our flag; on a face I show shame.
I'm a river and sea and a cherry and flame.

I'm a cardinal, gore, and a symbol for war,
And a Bolshevik, bulls-eye, and brothel decor.

I'm a bureaucrat's tape and a light where you wait
And a bullfighter's cape and Republican state.

I am Canada's leaf and Japan's rising sun.
I'm a steak ordered rare, and a lobster when done.

I'm two suits that are played, and a failing firm's ink,
And a cross bringing aid, and related to pink.

I'm the Sox loved in Boston and Prynne's scarlet A
And I decorate Christmas and Valentine's Day.

I'm a carpet rolled out or mean danger ahead.
I am Mars and a ruby and rose--I am red.

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Mind the Paint


Oh, to paint the inside of the egg
restyle the matted gray of sunless gloom
splash color on the curtains that belie
soft filtered light through windows of the soul.
Scaffolds to paint the Sistine of the Dome
brushstrokes to taunt the essence of our thought
teasing the tortured remnants of dreams lost
rainbows - revelations of a Master’s touch.

Creation’s palette in fetal fingered grasp
a water colored future dab by dab
a valiant streak of orange in the blue
the glowing red of life’s untarnished thrill.

Wild dance, cerebral choreography,
brushless art upon the eyelids of sleep.

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Artistic Bulimia

As a child I would eat crayons and then purge oceans onto paper.