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Blur of pastels,
on coarse burlap canvas
Manic pastiche
Of daubed circles and lines
It’s what I see
When I look all about me
At the crowds all around me…
Portraits displayed of all kinds
A gallery of faces
Some bearing the traces
Of joys and sorrows…
Of hopeful todays
And dreaded tomorrows
Some with fixed stare
Gaze into the air…
No more than portraits
In museums of dreams
Some have at least
The look of ‘Matisse”
But more with the look
Of Edvard Munches
…The Scream”…
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem