Channelling Jackson Pollock

Spatter, standard, seen before Said nobody Trajectory, tools, talent Said the air around me As I whisked around Slammed, splashed and slashed The mood of the movement Reflective of the observers Doubters and believers in equal measure Madness and genius Talent and folly Creation and destruction Drying time Where only I have seen Tense, pure, can anyone rely on knowing Inner belief That this could not be done by anybody I add whatever is within grasp But feed into the painting Something that is not a commodity Something unavailable to any other Whilst it requires the mind and vision Of the pack I stand alone With my canvas And know this will be worthy Strand Premier No 1192 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Brian Strand 10th place