As the artist stands to paint,
of what will be titled 'LIFE'
The apron is tied,
The hair scarfed back,
The paints lay idol, withe the brushes still bare.
Her life it seems,
Is not as paintable as it seems.
As the artist stands to paint,
Her life comes off on to the canvas
Her life spread out in paint,
The colours blur,
the images form.
As the Artist stands to paint,
Her hands flows gracefully across the page,
Like a dancer, her hand graces the page.
Like an autobiography, the paint forms her life across the page.
As the artist stands to paint,
A masterpiece she will call life,
She looks at the half finished art and and closes her eyes.
Lets her heart chose what memory will come next.
The page fills,
The colours merg,
The images are in focus,
Her life, her life dries before her eyes,
As the artist stares in wonderment at her life upon the page.
yes....a nice poem...beautiful concept....some of our own things surprise ourselves. thank you.
you stir up my emotion thru this poem great poetess musta na
This is a really niice piece of work Rosalita, you have proven life can be as beautiful or as hideous as you make it be, or in this case paint it. You have decided to take the most of it and beautifully craft it into a paiting. Une beauté extraordinaire, puis, en fin, je l`adore! H&K`s Jess**
Wow! This is a very nice piece, I can relate to this. Thanks for sharing, dear poet! : -)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow! Rosalita, this is almost as if you are in heaven where we are told our life flashes before us. Your imagination is brilliant and the poem evokes a miracle as it evolves to the last stanza. 10 Karin Anderson