Art Poems

Popular Art Poems
The Greats
by Tyler Morello

All artists strive to be like the Greats.
No shame in vying to be someone's Van Gogh,
Going, going, gone, Homer
with his Odysseys and Iliads
and to all, a million ears lent.
Just as Romans did to Antony in Caesar.
Shakespeare's sonnets sold out theatres,
but I grasp at the same words as he.
I pin them to the walls.
I paint them on the mirror.


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To ————— - Poem by
by Richard Crawley

They tell me that thou art not such
As I have always thought ;
That I have worshipped thee too much,
Nor judged thee as I ought ;
That love is blind, and cannot see
Specks in the sun, or fault in thee.

They said that many bend the knee


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Let it out
by Jagrut Gupta

Got that feeling deep in your soul
An idea that your dying to let out
Want to let the whole world know
If you wish to let it show
You gotta bring it out!
It can be a masterpiece

A whimsical tale
A heartfelt poem
A piece of fan art


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Paper Cliffs
by Leo Warne

A paper cliff, and a crashing wave,
stick figures walking across the page,
nighttime curls,
and the darkness furls,
and in the starlight's shadows,
there grows to be a gallows.

Towards the ledge,
come back from the edge.
Figures turns around,


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by Adam Bowman


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Recent Art Poems
by Adam Bowman


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Rise Up
by Thomas Case

The civilization of
poets has thinned out.
There's a drought of
metaphors and symbolism.
We are all prisoners in
a musty attic.
Where is Emily when
you need her?
I'm afraid they've gone
the way of the graveyard.


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Réponse À Carl Brouard
by Hébert Logerie

Ce n’est pas obligatoire
Mais je me fais le devoir
De répondre à Carl Brouard
Savoir boire n’est pas un art
Boire n’est pas un devoir
Mais une nécessité obligatoire
Cruciale voire vitale de boire
De l’eau. Choisir un tel destin aléatoire
De boire sa jeunesse
Jusqu'à l’ivresse


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The End to My Creativity
by Ian McCleary

There's my creativity lying on any loose sheet of paper he could find. There's my creativity moving around in the work of the musician Daniel Johnston. In all sorts of grotesque characters, big breasted women, etcetera. His mind was never short of images. It seems that he was never able to stop drawing given how many drawings I was able to find by him.
I had my turn for awhile. I had a big burst of creativity, I had it for a few years. Drawing almost everyday for hours. Back when I lived in my parents basement. But when I was told, You Can't Show Them! It all changed after that. It was an end to the limitless expression I felt free to do. I figured that if no one can see my drawings, then I was not going to make anymore of them.

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Chamber of a Thousand Faces
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

I was a bonafide, happy beautician, like a gorgeous, daisy sun as it is rising;
And charming, happy faces were my pursuit, like silvery moonlight uprising.

My days were a flurry of manicures and facials, like nature's green revisions,
Or gardens and fields sprouting colors, due to hidden, mysterious decisions.

I loved ruby, pleasant hours of work, and the valued customers all loved me,
Like the cool attraction which sparkles, between verdant land and green sea.

I visited fond friends, in the finally sunset, just as treasured gold was fading,


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