The Red, Red Lips Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The red, red lips
With the sweet words
And a face
Powdered, creamed,
Appleyish and collyrium-applied
Touch the heart
Whenever I see her

And she before me sitting,
Sitting and smiling,
Sitting and smiling sweetly,
A theatre persona,
A maiden so shy and coy
But not less than an art model
The source of my inspiration.

The portrait of an artist as
A young woman,
She sitting before me
And I making a portrait of hers,
My art model before me
And I singing the folk song
Scripted, giving tone to the words,
My mistress as she appeared
When I met her.