Anything, Everything
Now that the weather is brightening up, with a few exceptions, more and more life is starting to emerge. If this isn’t something to look forward to, I dont know what is. Sometimes just to exist and observe is all you need.
You can’t force it,
It’s like pulling teeth.
But the teeth are words to render the rhyme complete.
Try as you might, try as I may,
A line will come, it will find its own way
The perfect couplet will occur in its time
But until then, wait
Because tugged inspiration is not worth a dime.
If you were a book,
What kind would you be?
Would you be a best seller,
Would I come by you for free?
Would I read you cover to cover,
Or peruse you casually in a park?
Would I still be reading you beneath the lamp light after dark?
Are you a comedy, drama,
Or something in between?
Would your imagery stay with me,
Or flicker away like a dream?
Do you use your own perspective,
Or a friend’s?
Is your font friendly?
How does it end?
If I were to see you in a store,
Waiting on the shelf,
Would I walk by?
Or would I pry
Your pages open hungrily for more,
Your epilogue offering clarity,
The story becoming clear,
Would I fear
What you have to say?
I love drawing animals, or painting them as its usually the case. I think they’re not only fascinating to study, they also very relaxing. The more complex, the better. Birds are my favourite, and I didn’t discover painting birds until the beginning of lockdown when I painted some for a local care home. I think they’re ideal for any skill, and it opens up an area of study you may not have realised could be fascinating, if only to examine how intricate their patterns are.
The day I retire
My hearts first desire
Maybe then I’ll miss you.
When my mind stops aching
When my heart is done breaking
That day, I’ll miss you.
The first night I lie
And not wish he was by my side
That is the night i’ll miss you
After his voice ceases
And my obsession crumbles to pieces
After that, I will miss you.
When I notice the blue
In your eyes is a brighter hue
That is the moment I will start to miss you
When you are long gone, and I am alone
With my memories, photographs, a dead number on my phone,
Already, I will be missing you.
When his ghost abandons its embrace,
And yours takes its place.
I won’t be missing him. I’ll be missing you
I am nothing.
Nothing is I
Doesn’t make sense, does it?
To occupy a space
To make a lasting impression beneath your feet
And say those words as breeze bends around you
Everything is something
Nothing is something with everything in it
If I am nothing,
What does that say?
I am still a daughter
A niece
A granddaughter
A friend
A colleague
A lover
A memory.
Or is that too vague?
Am I too much in other eyes?
I don’t sell much, but I’m a painter
Cats may make more pleasant sounds, but I’m a singer
A writer I am and the words are my own
Rough as they are they come from me alone
Music comes in a wordless tune,
But it is mine.
And that is everything.
Paint a Mental Picture 