Life is like a painter
Who paints a beautiful picture
Of a mother who showers her baby
Colors of water steadily
Flowing onto the child’s body
With his eyes wide open
Looking so vibrant
And hoping
He would not be drowned
By his mother
Only the painter
Could change all the factors
The mother let loose
And the baby goes dozing
Articulation of living perfectly
Events were created chromatically
Surpassing all anticipations
Exceeding all expectations
Blanketing all cloudy minds
To live with honor
Or to live with disgrace
In a life out of place
Exaggeration could be the word
But, as a painter
We paint our picture
The picture is premature
Success, failure and glory
Could be your history
Don’t call it quit
When you have succeeded
Look at the painting
The stroke of living
Is in your hands
An excellent poem. The last stanza is especially powerful and evocative. Warm regards, Sandra
I specially like the end...the stroke of living.... in your hands.... love it
a nice picture in your head when you wrote this poem. wonderful.
yusof-this is really a Wow! poem. Your meaning is deep and well stated. I loved the rhythm and flow of it. Good work. kat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The title and the content of the poem is the aromatic flavor of life. I like this poem much and added my 10.