I'm tired of swirling my paintbrush
With long lost shades of blues and greens
It used to make my headrush
To reveal to you neverseen dreams
So who will paint me a picture?
With inks or pastels or words
Immortalise my treasure in scripture
Play me music that longs to be heard
I burned all my dreams into ashes
The smoke blends with state of a nation
No colours for my blank canvases
I'm waiting. So sweep me up with some inspiration
Rising and soaring like lotus unseen
Nourished by darkness into belief
Cast your reflections into my stream
Until I rise through the dirt with a sigh of relief
It seemed I was worthy to lay without breath?
Painting you beauty from my darkness inside
No more will my visions disturb your unrest
I'm so tired of these paintings you tell me to hide!
Now who will paint me a picture?
With inks or pastels or words
Immortalise my treasure in scripture
Play me music that longs to be heard
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Author:
sylviasearcher (
Offline) - Published: January 2nd, 2019 06:28
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 31
- User favorite of this poem: whisperingquill.
Offline)
Comments5
a self portrait is not such a bad idea... but am sure there will be loads of volunteers...... N
Still waiting for my queue of volunteers!
This one meant lots of different things to me.
That's why it goes all clunky in the middle. There's a verse that invaded my thoughts. I left it in anyway as my daily dose of self-talk therapy...
Pity I don't do portraits - but I do paint with words - great write.
It's funny the portrait interpretation. I would have a forest or river anyday.
Or a word picture.
Or both of course 😊
I enjoyed reading your poem.
Thank you Joanna 😊
Wow, I think you've painted something brilliant yourself here.
Thanks poetboy. 🤗
Words can bring such wonderful pictures into your mind.
I love drifting into the world's created by a good novel or poem 🤗
So do I, I am often 'lost in a book'.
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