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JRF
Poems
Mar 11
Painting
On Canvas
Or
Whatever surface.
I spill paint and words
and I emote
I let it all bleed out.
Sometimes it’s pretty.
It’s Art. Artistry at its best.
A picture forms and it looks like
a lovely moment in time.
Other times it’s a smear of dark hues
slaps of paint
angrily thrown on canvas.
And other times it’s just a sigh.
A small stroke of pastel paint.
Looking for solace.
Every little stroke of paint.
Colour.
It’s me.
It’s me.
Written by
JRF
47/F/Canada
(47/F/Canada)
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