Art was religion’s enemy, but nobody knew it.
Ignorance’s persecution and deception’s excommunication
are invisible marks stamped onto every wooden pallete.

What with the saints’ every feature executed with the finest human touches,
it’s divinity could not be more countoured and highlighted.
The bold kisses of sunlight onto the walls of the cathedrals
remind tense shoulders and pointed slippers how much they are adored by the universe..

while they, not as much so.

God’s fingerprints are engraved onto every human brain
for the mind is powerful enough to imagine
vast forests and fine cloth,
sweet wine and golden crusts of bread,
cherry lips and tamed silver hairs,
the softest pillows for varnished beds,
herds of sheep and gallops of mares.

The artist is glorified, admired and lusted for the deceptions it’s brushes could print onto textured paper.
Perhaps heaven’s mess sent graciously upon wiked ground,
unfertile for carrying the growth of who is gripping too lightly on the artist’s  border for beauty,
were the wrong tones of purple, blue, red, yellow, or brown.

You paint a perfect picture.

Full of firey reds
and deepest blue.
A sprinkle of gold
adds the final touch
to this masterpiece of 'you.'

But I've learned my lessons well.
Between the brush strokes,
the color choices,
the vibrant subject,
and opinionated voices.

A deeper inspection finds
a glaring exception.
The missing shadows
and darkened hues.
A blackened soul conveniently
hidden from view.

Deliberate?
Most likely.

Deceit is your brush,
vivid lies fill your pallete.
A habit common among
those whos veneer
is as thin as your canvas.

~~~

It's raining outside,
while I'm right here,
thinking of you,
wanting you by my side,
like the raindrops trailing by,
in a pattern that somewhat,
falls into the blue of your eyes.

The colors that I could see,
washed away at once,
some shades of the fragrance,
on the pallete of my dreams,
to add another colour of love,
while it passes in a single gleen,
before closing the sky to our last 'love scene'.

Walking down my lane with downturned chin
every bit of bright closing up shop for the season
I noticed a fluttering butterfly beckoning me on
leading me to an enclosed tunnel of riotous color!


Stepping inside, my view was obscured by foliage
every texture and hue with unlimited adornment
a studious lady with a clipboard stepped out from
a row of sunflowers, vivid coral with buttery edges.


I was stunned by the majesty of her shiny black hair
and I remembered reading about a plant whisperer
so I asked: “Are you the bloomin’ botanist of lore?
Please show me how you create all these colors!”

She nodded her head, with a big wide smile, saying: 'Yes! For Sure.'
We were soon amidst foliage, so green, so pure
She handed me a twig of dark pink rose,
She smiled in surprise, like a playful child,
Asked, 'Isn't this one adorable enough to be explored?'

I was thrilled to glance at the rose, the one indeed majestic enough to be explored!
She plucked a petal, and the fragnence filled my nose,
She told me of a 'pigment', called Anthocyanin
The initial chemical constituent that provides it's colours.

I pointed my finger towards a yet wonderful rose,
The one yellow, with tint of orange edges in a big wide row.
It ignited my curiosity & more to explore,
I asked: 'What's the pigment for those colours?'

She smiled & led me closer to that row,
A row whose smell grew intense and more.
She picked a petal on her palms to explore,
& told it was a blend of two colors!

The sunset yellow the flower showed, was due to a pigment called 'Carotene'
The orange tint at the petal's end
Was due to a fixed mix of Carotene and Anthocyanin!

She told that plants have a definite substance,
A chemical constituent called 'Pigment'.
These pigment yield the colors so new,
The ones we call Lavendry, rosy, grapy and  hues.

While most leafes have a common green pigment,
Which makes them so greeny in appearance
Is nothing but this common pigment,
A pigment called 'Chlorophyll' often.


I was thrilled, amazed, and smiled so wide,
To quench the thirst, my mind always strived!
These flowers, these plants, these leafes and trees that surrounds us all sides,
Have a natural colour pallete, named 'Pigment'' inside!
The one that imparts the colors so bright.

And while my heart was imbibed in this thought,
My soul danced to discover this merry thought.
My mind, My eyes, got stuck at a flower!

The flower was adorable, with a lotusy pink view,
But I saw a bee, dancing around & singing, buzzing.
I gazed, I watched, I wondered, and pondered.
My mind had a question, which urged the answer!


I turned then to my plant whisperer,
For a yet new answer,
She turned back with her utmost grace,
Asked 'Is there a new question for me to be answered?'


I pointed my hand towards the bumblebee,
I asked why was she dancing around those flowers incessant and merrily?
Are those flowers in any ways necessary for those bees?
What are those creatures doing, minsculely in the centre of the rose disc?


She smiled in delight, with a radiant face in confidence,
I was sure, she'd teach me something interesting then!
She told me they were helping the flower with pollination,
They are nature's pollinating agents!


The flowers we see, with the adorable hues
Are bright & attractive for a reason good,
You see the bees, You'll see the birds, You'll even the honeybees doing the same the wiggle
The all come here to **** flower's sweet juice,
& While they **** it from their nectar tubes,
Their bodies pick some pollen granules!


Those pollens are the powdery make seeds,
Which are often present at the central disc.
The flies when **** the sweet flower's juice,
They sit on the structure, called 'pollen bed', and fill their 'pollen baskets' till the deeper depths!

While these bees, leave the flower at their best, ready to go to a flower next,
Their wings dust these pollen dust, to the flower's pollen tube,
Ready for the phenomenon next!
A phenomenon called 'Fertilisation' best!

The fertilisation is the fusion of male to a female's reproductive cell,
A phenomenon which forms new 'Embryonic cells'.
The Embryo formed is but the new young cell,
Ready for the cycle, it's origination led.

Nature adorns this embryo with petals,
A structure we know as 'flowers' and its  'Whorls'
The center of which forms new pollen cells,
Ready for the cycle, a part of the cycle
Of its turn to transform  into a mature adult.

see the vacant echoes from the throats of those before us
that is I

envision the spirits wandering through the filaments of broken bones
that is I

listen to the whispers of mistaken secrets shared between distant lovers
that is I

hear the thunder, the sighs of a coral reef, laughing on the wind
that is I

feel the stone and its roots that bind us together
that is I

grasp the ripped parchment of deceased ideas
that is I

smell the tincture of blood, sweat, and tears
that is I

inhale every molecule of vivacious flowers made of sweet nothings
that is I

taste the salt of the sea on a pallete of rice, seaweed, and fish
that is I

crumble the words I have written and swish them in your mouth
that is I

I am something made through nothing
that is all

Painting
Abstract
Dull
Bright
Colours
Grey
The pallete
Held many

Choose
As you please
Just paint

Your thoughts