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Poem
The landscapes I paint have a fence or two
Some with pegs stout and straight
Some with bars broken and bent
A fence between the grey gravelly pathway 
And the flashy flowery garden swathe
Or between the rippling river and the verdant vale
Or between the swelling sea and the rocky ridge
Or between the dancing desert dunes and the smoky sky.
 
You ask me why? 
I delve deep in my mind
And find me lost nondescript in the crowd of chaos
Searching for a definition and a space singular
Of my own.

The landscapes I paint have a section of shrouding sky
With creeping clumps of cloud
Some ivory and dry, floating high
Some ashy and moist, lying low
A solitary scrap of cloud clinging in the blue bowl
Isolated and shapeless
Or slumping formless and forlorn 
Down the sloping hazy horizon 
Or wrapping the in-situ indigo hills 
And telling them how to fly.

You ask me why?
I delve deep in my mind
And find me fly with the flow of life alone
Searching for the meaning of living and a mooring zone
Of my own.

The landscapes I paint have tall trees 
In the foreground fresco
Some young and green, erect and stout
Some old and brown, scaling and hollow
They bifurcate the boughs skyward to conceal 
Other trees in the bleak background
Or in the leaves' shadows the stunted shrubs
Or shed the fawn foliage that covers the green grass
Or spread reticulate roots that grind the ground to dust dry.

You ask me why?
I delve deep in my mind
And find me desolate and discounted
Searching for a foothold and an identity
Of my own.

The familiar faces I paint have birthmark
On the right cheek
Some russet and sleek
Some grey and glossy
A mark sketched on the face as the blessing of birth
Or giving the ugly face a spot for beauty to breed
Or fashioning the fluid face to take the shape it seeks.

You ask me why?
I delve deep in my mind
And find me hidden in the birthmark on my face
Wanting to be seen and remembered
To have made a mark
Of my own.
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