The Painting

growing restless

blown-out candles

leave behind smoke

rising stories fill the senses

pictures forming

paints are humming

mixed-up hues of

ochre, verde, sepia,

cadmium orange and cyan

hand is trembling

voice is scratchy

heart stops

catch your breathe

close your eyes -handle

of brush levitates

and down splashes your sweat

amongst the tears of increasing years

quiet, taut and invisible

signs of life approaching

nearer the canvas

and soon your caught

ropes and hooks

with a fisher’s net

of scrambled puzzles

non-configured, contorted syllables

poetic verse undressed

and therein lies the bare necessities of The Painting.

Poetry

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