The stroke of the pencil show me the way,
To see the masterpiece named tomorrow or today,
The canvas is what views,
It's basicly the window of all that shows to the new,
The black and white was the good old days,
But the colors were what they had to say,
Thy now love the creativity,
Saying now to my sensitivity,
It brings us to the question why art so difficult,
When your complaining about the other art being typical,
I would say the best is for last,
But why say that when you arn't having a blast,
You stare at ur masterpiece for hours,
And it doesn't even look like ours,
You think u messed up on the sketch,
But putting more details is a bit of a stretch!
You messed the whole thing up!
But get your head up and put your colored pencils lined-up!
Don't give up on something that is hard,
Even though continuing would make u scarred,
Add the trees add the grass
Add the Frame add the glass
Staring at the window observation
As the reader obviously doing a narration
The teacher looks at u strange, why arn't you working?
You stare with tears in eyes and say you been overworking,
She judges you for wasting time, everything as a time and place to be
And that you were acting so carelessly,
She points at the clock telling it's time to do more work..
work...
work....
YOU ARE READING
My Poems
PoetryI sometimes get bored and when I am, I'm usually in a mood so I make poems to express my feelings, mostly to try to make some rhyme out of whatever the fudge I just made.. Enjoy
