Paint Brush

Using a pencil, or a brush,
we paint ourselves over,
Often in a hectic rush.

A Stroke of rage makes the first strike,
followed by other blows of fury,
an image as sharp as a deadly spike.

The next few strikes are albeit slow,
resulting in a beautiful sway of colors,
proud of the beauty of our flow

Globs of white shame now follow,
Blurring the image, leaving it colorless,
Going unnoticed in it's black sorrow.

Thousands of more techniques are next
all beautiful,powerful and form our image.
Impossible to describe in plain text. 

Each one of us is a unique art

and are all the same

when taken apart.

   

Author's Note

The poem simply states that even though each one of us is unique, we are all made in the same way, through happiness, through anger, through sadness and all of the other feelings we have. All of this is represented in a metaphor of an artist. Even though each one of his drawings is unique, his techniques, his strokes when he paints, are often the same.

Reviews

[Jessica Mai]

This is truly awesome!!! I love the idea.... just AWESOME. Great, great, great, great write. The last stanza just summed it all up and i am amazed!

[Vin]

This was a great piece! The description was incredible and the flow was very well done. I really enjoyed reading this :) Thanks for sharing!

-Beth

[Coyote Poetry]

The poem is very good. I like the logic in your words. I believe we need to bring out the strength in each person. In some places in the world. Art, poetry, dance and a good game of chess is consider a good day. A excellent poem. You always made me think.
Coyote

[ShaneBerry]

a great write! i cant wait to c more requests u sent!

[Annette Jay Sweeney]

You convey your meaning very well. I think at sometimes it's vague exactly what image you are searching for, so this could maybe be reworked if you look at this again, but it's not a big deal. :)

[FeliciaS (Poetic Prince..]

beautifully written