Painting Poetry

In the hustle-bustle of life,

Treading alone on deserted street

Out of the blue, I see hazy reflections

Engulfing figures, though incomplete

 

Every motion around me comes to a standstill

Only me and my thoughts flowing

On the veneer of emotions

I splash the pigments of visuals glowing

 

Crayon moves rapidly, sketching

Contours of my imagination

In the form of a musical structure

I paint the words of incarnation

 

I paint them in black and white

And all the colors of rainbow

In the words of hatred and affection

And all those emotions hidden below

 

Personifying those abstract relations

In the symphony of a finished melodic art

I see the scripted colorful painting of thee

Manifesting my expressions of heart

Reviews

[ZeeArsonist]

A beautiful write! I like to think of words as my pallet. I'm not a painter, sculptor or sketch artist. I can't play an instrument. Technology and the science of photography work against me more than it does me good. I enjoyed this through and through. :)

[Neha Godambe]

I can relate to this. Tech, music and other art forms do me no good, though they are my wishful areas of interest. Words do all the healing... almost every time :) Thanks dear!