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Blank Canvas

It's attitude was neutral

Neither here, nor there

Just a bare canvas

That stands without care

A vast space vibrating

It waits without rush

Filled with anticipation

For the stroke of a brush

Allowing anything 

The artist desires

Till the picture appears

For all to admire

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🌷(2)

Artartist

June

Let the anticipation build Let the angst grow inside your gut Allow it to rumble and tumble and wreck havoc on your insides Feel the magnetic pull when we lock eyes a little bit too long and struggle to break away Watch me watching you while trying to hide your prying eyes Don't you dare rush a thing

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🌷(3)

anticipationlovenewartlossangstheartscaredsparks

If Poems Were Paintings (A Scabrous Fantasy, Written After Watching J. Koons at Work On BBC4)

This poem was painstakingly transcribed by 23 unpaid

interns labouring under my cool, indifferent 'tutelage'

(and who, after each day's work is finished, in bars and cafés

across the city will pretend to their friends how valued

they're made to feel as students and protegés of mine.)

                                                                                                   E...

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artfantasywriting

Unappreciated Art

A single blue dot on a canvas
That no one can understand
Over looked and unappreciated
So quit yet so loud 
A story waiting to be told 
But no one cares to ask 
Every canvas tells a story
This one is called depression

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depressionsadartstory

Mortality

Mortality stalks me 
like a jealous lover.

Breathlessly follows me
wherever I go, incessantly
banging a gong, 

chanting, 

it won't be long, 
come to me, let 
the pain end.

My eternal soul sees
this game of mortal gods 

and challenges me

to go where mortals
fear to tread...

Meditate in silent space
past the black hole,

beyond illness,
depression, despair

to that ...

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artdeathdepressiondespaireternityfreedomillnesslegacylifemagicmortalitypoetrysoulwriting

HeyAmericaIWroteSomethingForYou

Dr. Love (or How I Learned to Stop Wallowing and Write Poetry)

By: Rodolfo Perez

 

Love is (sometimes) patient,

Love is (sometimes) kind,

And sometimes, love is a needle in the eye,

Or a kick to the groin.

 

It is a cliff-hanger,

With your mother waiting to catch you,

When you let go.

 

It is losing your voice,

From crying into your pillow.

 

It is real...

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PhilosophyArtPowerDepressionLoveRomancecomedy

The Power of Poetry in Hospice Care 

Poetry about Real People - The power of poetry in hospice care 

There is a tension between the advance of medical science, that pursues its ability to fix and treat, and an acceptance of the natural order of death and how that may be experienced. Atul Gawande, a surgeon and health researcher, has reignited this debate with his book 'Being Mortal' (and also presented the 2014 Reith Lectures on B...

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🌷(1)

hospicewellbeingend of lifehealthdyingcreativityart

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