Got up this morning,
To follow the same old routine,
That never changes anymore,
But I stop and my breath hitched.
Through the window, I see...
A painting made in the sky,
Hues of brilliant vibrant colours.
Through the window, I see...
A painting in the water,
The ripples dancing across.
Through the window, I see...
The world from brand new eyes,
where strokes tell stories.
I sit and start painting,
Pouring my heart out,
To see,
A brand new world waiting for me.
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Author:
Onyx (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 18th, 2022 01:32
- Comment from author about the poem: During the pandemic, I wasn't able to talk to my friends and texting just doesn't work for me. So, I had to find another way to express my feelings. I wrote poems more frequently and taught myself how to paint. Suffice it to say, my paintings are soon going to be at a sale auction.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
(such an empowering message
congrats and best of luck with your showing,
thank you! for choosing to share your wisdom
and inspiring my little scribble of a poetic reply below)
'when we stir, and struggle
we soon find a pool, within
to pull upon and grow
a connection, to those great deeds
that once seemed
so distant and fantastical;
but
if we give-in, deem everything tiresomely meaningless
the gap to realism's possibilities
seem to extend, infinitely...
so we must stir, push, grasp, move, dream
Live, Live, Live!'
Thank you! I must say, truer words have never been spoken before!
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