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.
brilliant poem…
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Thanks. Glad you like it. 😌
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