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Blank canvass, Then colour brings it to life Shades and tones scratch in to picture It bleeds creativity, Moments become minutes Which consume the hours of the day, A picture is formed by Impressions, Outlines , Engraving. Life upon the page, One last brush stoke, shading put there Complete, But what did my brush strokes create A hand, as if  reaching out the page Ominous, Distressing, Sinister, Is what covered this canvas of white To look upon it, "Did my eyes deserve me" Moving forward as if to clench I move, but to slow As what was inanimate, Now paint drips off as it has hold Upon my hand, The paint seeps up as I am consumed By the canvas Holding on to the frame, My finger scratch upon the wood As I scream, The terror frozen within the paint, I am but brush stokes My face painted on canvas The hand upon my shoulder I am cold now, I am for eternity now the paints prisoner, The hand is my guard Such vivid brushstrokes As if she painted fear upon the canvass A master piece of cloth and paint Not knowing I am trapped now for eternity Terror painted within this frame.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
Art Consumes Life
Blank canvass, Then colour brings it to life Shades and tones scratch in to picture It bleeds creativity, Moments become minutes Which consume the hours of the day, A picture is formed by Impressions, Outlines , Engraving. Life upon the page, One last brush stoke, shading put there Complete, But what did my brush strokes create A hand, as if  reaching out the page Ominous, Distressing, Sinister, Is what covered this canvas of white To look upon it, "Did my eyes deserve me" Moving forward as if to clench I move, but to slow As what was inanimate, Now paint drips off as it has hold Upon my hand, The paint seeps up as I am consumed By the canvas Holding on to the frame, My finger scratch upon the wood As I scream, The terror frozen within the paint, I am but brush stokes My face painted on canvas The hand upon my shoulder I am cold now, I am for eternity now the paints prisoner, The hand is my guard Such vivid brushstrokes As if she painted fear upon the canvass A master piece of cloth and paint Not knowing I am trapped now for eternity Terror painted within this frame.
#paint#fear#demon#cold#consumed#cavass#brushstrokes
poetic-t
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poetic-t
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
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