lowry painted pictures in his salford town
with his matchstick people. he would jot them down
chimneys from the factories smoking all around
he put them in his pictures set as a backgroud
he just loved to paint on canvas everyday
lowry he was different with his special way
his pictures they remain and now there here to stay
this painter man from salford with his matchstick way

i can see the  reflection of a tree
sparesely decorated with colored leaves
hidden under or over - im not quite sure
the backgroud of my computer screen
behind me is the window
and sky, and wind, and trees
are just a second in that direction
but here i sit
in lecture, reflecting on reflections

Have you heard the sound of cataract?
It sings a song of beauty and
Examplifies the glory of  nature
How sweet her hidden songs are!

She invites birds, insects, and stroms
To play different sorts of music.
She orders to trees and grass to set
The green carpet on the soil.
Accepting to make a colourful  backgroud,
Butterflies, fireflies, and rainbow have come.
How delicate her heavely tone is!

I know,  you can't believe my words.
Go to her, listen to her song
Her song is as melodious as Ariel
Her background is as lucrative as Helen
Her stting of all is not less adorable than Aphrodite.
Your own sense will justify my words.

Little bomb
In the backgroud
Shake the house
And rouse my bones
How exciting is destroying
The destroyer
And all they're faithful crones

If we were painted on a canvas
I imagine you made of warm colors,
Pastels shaping your soft cheeks.
And in the backgroud of dust and charcoal
You find me creating a path to ruin it all.

lowry painted pictures in his salford town
with his matchstick people. he would jot them down
chimneys from the factories smoking all around
he put them in his pictures set as a backgroud

he just loved to paint on canvas everyday
lowry he was different with his special way
his pictures they remain and now there here to stay
this painter man from salford with his matchstick way