Oil Paints On My Hands Poem by Paula Glynn

I paint picture after picture,
Those oil paints on my hands,
The pictures I paint,
Depict nude women,
Sophisticated male figures,
All drawn and painted in profile,

I use those oil paints with finesse,
And blend every colour,
Into a world of oil paints,
Colours of reds, greens, yellows,
Blues, purples, all the primary colours too,
For each shade is carefully blended,

I seldom use watercolour,
Oil paints my favourite,
As they stain my hands beautifully,
My paintings from my heart,
For painting with oil is my art,

Painting means so much to me,
As important as a musician,
Playing their guitar or violin,
For both music and paintings,
Come from deep inside the heart,

And show the mind,
In all its glory as emotions,
Colour the canvas,
Colour my hands with its oil paint,

And I shall never stop painting,
For my soul lives within those oil paints,
And my choice to paint never a mistake,

For art - not just paintings -
Sell those beautiful designer perfumes,
Those luxurious beauty products,
Sold via those photographs,
Men and women of beauty,
To pose, almost as if in a painting,

And I shall take those photographs,
Painting those men and women,
As the unique and inspiring figures,
As they are, for this is art,

My artistic mind never lets me down,
As I make those brushstrokes,
Down the canvas, blending every colour,
Into darker shades or lighter shades,
That inspire the imagination,
To dream magical dreams,
That oil paints on my hands create.