A Piece Of Art Poem by Usha Pisharody

How did that
piece of art
get that way?

It’s a thought I’ve had,
recurring, persistent…

Imagine, the colours
in that oil painting, just so-
the strokes, each one,
making magic, when it happens!
A knife to smoothen, sharpen,
blend and perfect…
Only then, will that soul
of the artist, permeate-

And the painter? Replete!

Imagine each sculpture
chiseled, just so-
how it knows the form
within, taking shape:
Through blows, taps, edges
and endless jabs..
Just the right force
in the sculptor’s hand;
else, it just might not be!

And the sculptor? Humbled.

The flowers in the vase
be it Ikebana, or just
your own special, inimitable way-
the fern placed, just so-
and the aster – that way.
Gently placed on the
thorny holder..
you want it upright-
standing tall and proud!

And you? Mesmerized!

The poem you just wrote;
The story that just came-

How did it get that way?
Maybe because, you did!
Your heart in it, you pondered
patiently: the words wrote
artfully, and it happened, just so.

The writer? Soaked in it!

And I believe,
The Artist, up there,
would look at us..
thinking, how he moulded us!
A little push, that fall, rising again,
helping us to form – just that way!
Colour us with feeling, just so-
tap and smooth, the rough edges
and, watch us stand proud!

And, yet again, I do believe
No matter, if anyone
understood us, His work –
He’d believe in us;
and He’d know – it was
Worthwhile!

I wish, though, we could believe
So fully too!



15 May,07