well, people did not respond to the whole enterprise thing as i had hoped. so i have decided to try my luck at poetry! in english we are writing our own lyric poems. Mine is titled:
the artist
i have paper.
thousands of sheets
just waiting to be made into something special.
each medium calls out,
"Pick me! Pick me!"
i carefully consider each medium
and what it has to offer.
watercolors destroy definite lines
and blend the world through
a glass of liquid.
acrylics smile their bright colors.
brushes tingle with laughter.
colored pencils remain solemn
in their tin
content with the smell of wood.
i pause
as my hand reaches
into a bag of
Sunchips.
french onion is preferable.
i continue with the impossible.
i decide on two best friends:
the pencil and kneaded eraser.
they complement each other.
a basic sketch begins to form
as my hand runs
back and forth across the page.
scribbling, erasing, scribbling, erasing
... days go by.
the wood shavings have piled up.
each line
has been transformed into a carefully placed piece.
each curve
fufills the needs of the picture.
finalized touches have been put into place.
as i step back
to view my finished work
something is missing.
grabbing my finely sharpened pencil
i complete the masterpiece
with two small figures
that lets everyone know
the owner. the creator. the artist.
i decide on two best friends:
the pencil and kneaded eraser.
they complement each other.
a basic sketch begins to form
as my hand runs
back and forth across the page.
scribbling, erasing, scribbling, erasing
... days go by.
the wood shavings have piled up.
each line
has been transformed into a carefully placed piece.
each curve
fufills the needs of the picture.
finalized touches have been put into place.
as i step back
to view my finished work
something is missing.
grabbing my finely sharpened pencil
i complete the masterpiece
with two small figures
that lets everyone know
the owner. the creator. the artist.
