he painted a picture of his favourite view, but from the bottom of the cliffs, which if you’r doing it at Birling Gap, can be dodgy, when the tide comes in Next time, he decided, I’ll do it fro m the cliff top, oh , but then I’ll miss the flints embedded in the cliff. Rethink time.
I once painted a porch, it was gray with white streaks because I didn’t mix the paint properly. My husband painted lots of things in his lifetime most of them were houses. My daughter has painted many pictures at school and they were beautiful she’s a great artist. I love painting, painting is fun. Have you ever painted anything?
I painted a picture today. It was a picture of a frog dancing ballet to the sweet flow of jazz music. The thing that was unique about this painting was that I had never painted before. Writing about this painting that doesn’t exist was interesting , considering I only had a minute to write about it.
i painted a picture one day not with a brush or actual paint, but with a keyboard it was the most beautiful picture ever seen and it was nothing but my thoughts and words.
Paint me a dream of violet skies and shiny terraces of sparkling diamonds with a red carpet going all the way to you along which my feet shall walk and reach and reach and reach till I reach…
“Yes, he did! Body paint – the kind that glows. Then he went running through the streets. Incredible sight! Of course, they were filming the whole thing. I doubt there is much that that man does that he does not film!”
“Well, he seems to have made a livelihood out of filming himself … you have to give him that!”
it’s colourful and its lovely and it can be anything you want it to be.
You can change the colour of something to a new colour and its like a whole new life. a whole new thing to make you smile, or shudder, or just catch your attention when you least expect it.
Something painted means it used to look like something else and you have no idea what it was. It makes it more fun cos now you get to guess.
i once painted a scene out of a railway station, which showed a typical scene at any indian railways station. the painting i painted was having a railway steam engine.
painted on a body..on a mind..words can be painted as well, mostly on a heart..and they are the ones that stay the longest. and they are the ones that are felt the loudest. so you can say the heart is not really an eco-friendly material.
A Geisha girl, with all her feelings, thoughts and desires painted in, trapped beneath a shield of white and the brightest red as the gatekeeper to her words.
“Look for home,” She said.
Home is painted with the different colours of the world, the colours that cover your soul when you walk in and out the white door.
You paint the places you touch with such vibrant colours that they tell your story. Everything about you- your past, your present and your future- will give life to the black and white backdrop of this world.
I did leave this therapist – the fact is : I still feel it down my side. He ows me my prom. I was underneath his dreams. His roommate felt abortion the key from flourishing trips. Cap Code between the port and the valley still reminds the sadness of their stollen trip to utopia ! (I assume you never and wished to be minourilte ;)
Es war gemalt, es war nur gemalt! Und es sah so echt aus, so lebendig! Das alte runde Haus, mit den bunten Bleiglasfenstern, und den alten Holzbalken, die den Lehm hielten. Sogar Vögel flogen an den Wänden entlang, sie warfen Schatten, die entgegengesetzt zur Sonne wanderten.
The walls were splashed Jackson Pollock styled and when I walked into the room I fell in love.
I was floating on a cloud. It might have been the turpentine.
It might have been the god awful week i was having; it might have been that I just could not care less anymore; it could have been that I was done with all of it; finished.
tell me how to be painted by your love. i’m a blank canvas. everything else that is used bleeds all over me. your touch is just right. your strokes are flow down the curves of my body. I never want to auctioin you ouff. you’re my original masterpiece
painted faces painted walls
all the colors disperse and fall
painted flowers painted roses
i’ve fallen in a dizziness
i’ve painted my mind with the designs
red green blue yellow orange
painted a picture of you it was beautiful. i miss your eyes your lips your kiss and i dont know what to do with out you. i wish i could paint myself near you so my dream can come back to me i miss you dearly and hope one day you remember me for who i am and what we were. forever in my heart xo
Her face stood out in the crowded park, she was a warrior ready for battle, as she waited for the suitors to come calling.
These are my eyes, my lips, my cheeks. They are painted in this way to remind you to pay homage to my beauty. Approach me slowly and provide an offering at the seat of my power, and if it so pleases me, my black rimmed eyes will tell you I am yours.
Her rosy red cheeks were painted with a shade of crimson too dark for her complexion. Shyness or abuse; it’s a fine line to tread amongst so great a company. She smiled at the painter anyway, as he took the portrait in a blink of an eye.
The painted walls were a shade of sadness and cringes filled the air. She was broken without repair, i guess he left and nothing«s ever gonna be equal or match what they had, she was the princess in a castle and he, the prince who left.
it was in a dark, dark cellar that Maria finished her masterpiece. The old man (her father, the blessed insane man who taught her everything she had to use) stumbled into the pitch black, hollow room.
“See it?” she asked.
“No,” he said, “For it is dark in here.”
From the breast of the land the hills rose into peaks, the culmination of indescribable lengths of time and forces unseen acting without audience. Sparse shrubs and naturally stunted trees found homes in a mandala of colors emanating from the flying birds and the ever present winds. The sky and ground danced their eternal dance as the brushes of nature acted out their scene and the great director instructed from upon the unseen chair. The hills found themselves the subject of the greatest work of art imaginable, scrutinized only by those that existed within them.
His paintbrush moved swiftly against the rough stone wall, leaving a slick trail of shiny white behind it. Blowing a strand of loose brown hair off his face, he dipped the brush back into the large tin sitting on the floor next to his feet, and kept painting.
glass. the painted glass next door looked amazing as the sun reflected off the tints. each one flickering like stars in the sky. i was so amused by the way the light played with the colours. it was a dream within a reality, the paint vs the sun.
Life is like a painted picture. It could be colorful and bright, filled with the most beautiful things. Images pour out gold and glitter and happiness, spreading smiles onto faces. Other times, it wreaks of pain and terror and darkness. And all the black and red come crashing and slashing down, clawing like a mad beast. Other times it is sadness, and all you can see is blue. Dark blue. And tears. But these things, every stroke and gesture, create one gigantic masterpiece. And that is life.
The joker painted the walls in his room the color of sand. He let the speckles float away, like so many particles. They joined together again the next morning – all was forgiven.
he painted a picture of his favourite view, but from the bottom of the cliffs, which if you’r doing it at Birling Gap, can be dodgy, when the tide comes in Next time, he decided, I’ll do it fro m the cliff top, oh , but then I’ll miss the flints embedded in the cliff. Rethink time.
I once painted a porch, it was gray with white streaks because I didn’t mix the paint properly. My husband painted lots of things in his lifetime most of them were houses. My daughter has painted many pictures at school and they were beautiful she’s a great artist. I love painting, painting is fun. Have you ever painted anything?
i painted a mailbox a bright red color and the nieghbors considered it a tad tacky. but its ok i think their just jealous of my awesome box :)
I painted a picture today. It was a picture of a frog dancing ballet to the sweet flow of jazz music. The thing that was unique about this painting was that I had never painted before. Writing about this painting that doesn’t exist was interesting , considering I only had a minute to write about it.
i painted a picture one day not with a brush or actual paint, but with a keyboard it was the most beautiful picture ever seen and it was nothing but my thoughts and words.
I wanted to paint the sky blue but couldn’t so I painted my nails instead. They look kindda stupid but hey, what the hell!
Paint me a dream of violet skies and shiny terraces of sparkling diamonds with a red carpet going all the way to you along which my feet shall walk and reach and reach and reach till I reach…
“Painted? He painted himself?”
“Yes, he did! Body paint – the kind that glows. Then he went running through the streets. Incredible sight! Of course, they were filming the whole thing. I doubt there is much that that man does that he does not film!”
“Well, he seems to have made a livelihood out of filming himself … you have to give him that!”
it’s colourful and its lovely and it can be anything you want it to be.
You can change the colour of something to a new colour and its like a whole new life. a whole new thing to make you smile, or shudder, or just catch your attention when you least expect it.
Something painted means it used to look like something else and you have no idea what it was. It makes it more fun cos now you get to guess.
i once painted a scene out of a railway station, which showed a typical scene at any indian railways station. the painting i painted was having a railway steam engine.
painted on a body..on a mind..words can be painted as well, mostly on a heart..and they are the ones that stay the longest. and they are the ones that are felt the loudest. so you can say the heart is not really an eco-friendly material.
A Geisha girl, with all her feelings, thoughts and desires painted in, trapped beneath a shield of white and the brightest red as the gatekeeper to her words.
“Look for home,” She said.
Home is painted with the different colours of the world, the colours that cover your soul when you walk in and out the white door.
You paint the places you touch with such vibrant colours that they tell your story. Everything about you- your past, your present and your future- will give life to the black and white backdrop of this world.
i painted a big fat boy who likes to eat chocolate. I showed my mom painting and she said it was ugly. She and I laughed together.
beauty
pretty
lovely
smart
eye
hand
drugs
funny
macarena
monkey
My house was painted in a color that I do not like, everyone is say how good my house look now but somehow the color do not appeal to me.
I did leave this therapist – the fact is : I still feel it down my side. He ows me my prom. I was underneath his dreams. His roommate felt abortion the key from flourishing trips. Cap Code between the port and the valley still reminds the sadness of their stollen trip to utopia ! (I assume you never and wished to be minourilte ;)
Es war gemalt, es war nur gemalt! Und es sah so echt aus, so lebendig! Das alte runde Haus, mit den bunten Bleiglasfenstern, und den alten Holzbalken, die den Lehm hielten. Sogar Vögel flogen an den Wänden entlang, sie warfen Schatten, die entgegengesetzt zur Sonne wanderten.
The walls were splashed Jackson Pollock styled and when I walked into the room I fell in love.
I was floating on a cloud. It might have been the turpentine.
It might have been the god awful week i was having; it might have been that I just could not care less anymore; it could have been that I was done with all of it; finished.
tell me how to be painted by your love. i’m a blank canvas. everything else that is used bleeds all over me. your touch is just right. your strokes are flow down the curves of my body. I never want to auctioin you ouff. you’re my original masterpiece
“Painted,” I looked painted, he said. As he threw his keys on the table, he couldn’t resist one last opportunity to scar my sole.
painted faces painted walls
all the colors disperse and fall
painted flowers painted roses
i’ve fallen in a dizziness
i’ve painted my mind with the designs
red green blue yellow orange
painted a picture of you it was beautiful. i miss your eyes your lips your kiss and i dont know what to do with out you. i wish i could paint myself near you so my dream can come back to me i miss you dearly and hope one day you remember me for who i am and what we were. forever in my heart xo
Her face stood out in the crowded park, she was a warrior ready for battle, as she waited for the suitors to come calling.
These are my eyes, my lips, my cheeks. They are painted in this way to remind you to pay homage to my beauty. Approach me slowly and provide an offering at the seat of my power, and if it so pleases me, my black rimmed eyes will tell you I am yours.
Her rosy red cheeks were painted with a shade of crimson too dark for her complexion. Shyness or abuse; it’s a fine line to tread amongst so great a company. She smiled at the painter anyway, as he took the portrait in a blink of an eye.
Colors red yellow pink purple walls clown face makeup red black fence run fly India artist rapper singer dancer wet thick paint
the rain was dripping down from the roof outside. how depressing. depressingly beautiful. man I miss her.
The painted walls were a shade of sadness and cringes filled the air. She was broken without repair, i guess he left and nothing«s ever gonna be equal or match what they had, she was the princess in a castle and he, the prince who left.
it was in a dark, dark cellar that Maria finished her masterpiece. The old man (her father, the blessed insane man who taught her everything she had to use) stumbled into the pitch black, hollow room.
“See it?” she asked.
“No,” he said, “For it is dark in here.”
Embrace me,
Colour me deep, dark and delicious.
I always want to smell of your touch.
From the breast of the land the hills rose into peaks, the culmination of indescribable lengths of time and forces unseen acting without audience. Sparse shrubs and naturally stunted trees found homes in a mandala of colors emanating from the flying birds and the ever present winds. The sky and ground danced their eternal dance as the brushes of nature acted out their scene and the great director instructed from upon the unseen chair. The hills found themselves the subject of the greatest work of art imaginable, scrutinized only by those that existed within them.
His paintbrush moved swiftly against the rough stone wall, leaving a slick trail of shiny white behind it. Blowing a strand of loose brown hair off his face, he dipped the brush back into the large tin sitting on the floor next to his feet, and kept painting.
glass. the painted glass next door looked amazing as the sun reflected off the tints. each one flickering like stars in the sky. i was so amused by the way the light played with the colours. it was a dream within a reality, the paint vs the sun.
nails, red always warm fingers
“starry starry night, painted palette blue and grey… ” painted, paint your, painted, paint your… painted.
if i was a paint i would like to be painted. is that beautiful instance where the brush and the hand make one. i that perfect moment to be free.
Life is like a painted picture. It could be colorful and bright, filled with the most beautiful things. Images pour out gold and glitter and happiness, spreading smiles onto faces. Other times, it wreaks of pain and terror and darkness. And all the black and red come crashing and slashing down, clawing like a mad beast. Other times it is sadness, and all you can see is blue. Dark blue. And tears. But these things, every stroke and gesture, create one gigantic masterpiece. And that is life.
When painted, an object acquires a veneer, but loses none of its underlying substance. Though only its surface has changed, the new conceals the old.
The joker painted the walls in his room the color of sand. He let the speckles float away, like so many particles. They joined together again the next morning – all was forgiven.
I painted my body with memories blue
Sprinkled the laughter of now to make them true.
I took a blob of dripping red
And let it fall over your dull head!
I crayoned pink lips for all the kisses,
And the glitter of stars for the misses!
A pocketful of grey and white and black
For black & white moments for the stale minded Jack!