My Child, My Art
Beauty captured by a simple flick of my wristExcitement itching through my skin
Left and right, passion is electric in the air
And it claims me, to feel free, to fly
The feeling bestowed upon me
My fingers twitch, wanting more
My hands rise to the easel
To steady it as it steadies me
I feel its faint heartbeat coursing through my fingertip
Its rhythm, like hypnotic music, I sway myself to it
We dance; I strike a corporal streak to my page
It embraces my attack with reassurance
I create a heart; my art shall feel emotions, love and happiness
I form veins, my art will bleed if cut, as I would
I craft lungs, it shall breathe and live
I fashion organs; my art is shaped to my form
I generate muscles and tissue, to give strength with life
I construct features; splendour will flourish in my art
I build a body, so it may have the delight of walking
Of holding, of jumping, of running
Eyes, to see the beauty of a simple sunset
To see the magnificence if the earth, to see the moons and the stars
A tongue, so my art will have the power to reply, it shall not be restricted
I shall listen to its words; I shall encourage its desires
Ears to experience the greatest plays, novels and symphonies written
So it may hear and understand the beauty of the written word
A nose, so it may smell the pollen in the air,
To smell the sweet perfume to the delicate rose
Skin, to feel the light breezes and warm glares of the sun
To feel the grass and earth, to connect with life.
My Beauty is born, my child, my pride...My Art
Poetry by Illusion
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Written on 2005-09-15 at 13:06
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