For a long time I have harboured the desire to paint, and yet I never do. I must overcome this and get started.
I Will Paint!
I long to paint - to make bold strokes
with splashing brush across the page;
to stand well back, with bristled sword;
"Have at thee,canvas. Bear my rage!"
To mark and scar, and thus win over
whitest maiden, pure and clean
and leave her glorious, burst with colour
blossoming like she were a Queen.
My strokes cut clean decisive sweeps
but cov'ring every woven thread,
my dashing boldness never falters,
crimson blood runs to my head.
My pallette shield, it's border garnished,
liquid gems of brilliant hue,
from Yellow Chrome, Sienna, Umber,
vermillion, lamp-black, Prussian Blue.
The Shield-boss littered, swirling shades
of mixes now redundant, dry,
while space remains, yet to be filled
with newer fresher blends to try.
And as my rage begins to leave me
tenderness will then ensue
and finer brush, with closer working,
emphasise the detail true.
At last, I know, will come the moment,
when the last brush-stroke is made,
when all my passion is before me
rightly on the canvas laid.
and I, with empty heart and vision,
brushes cleaned and pallette dry
will turn away to seek fresh canvas,
brushing teardrop from my eye.
© Rob King 2013