Colouring the canvas with long strokes
with a quiet picture that's in his mind
Paint thrown in a unique combine
with generous dabs and a longish wind
The quiet backdrop acquires a life
colourful in form, muted in desire
Shapes and patterns for space they vie
pools of water along streaks of fire
Ripples from the mind collapse on the
shore
distressed hands, their tool of choice
Along the way, they create a life
A thousand words and a single voice
Every sinew, twitch and unending nerve
contribute to the failures or the victory
Lost battles buried in the colourful den
the emergent art is for the world to see
Canvas into oil melds with seamless ease
pain and paint, one ends and other begins
The longest minute and shortest hour
each plays its part as the painter wins.
3 comments:
The analogy is so striking!
Especially the final stroke with the sword of your quill!
" pain and paint, one ends and other begins
The longest minute and shortest hour each plays its part as the painter wins. "
Hey USha..Long time no see? Nice to see someone comment on my esoteric blog. It's a miracle if it gets a hit :)
I was in kerala in Mar..I hope the menagerie is keeping you entertained.
The Menagerie is down by one, last month, sadly. I was in Kochi, off and on... INS Dronacharya, where the elder one was doing his Long G. Its over and he's been posted to Vizag.
Hope you're doing fine!
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