From I Am
From;
Finding inspiration in a teapot.
Looking out over a vast ocean of pink
The broad grasslands of blue,
The sent of roasted coffee suffocating the air
From lines I am,
Lines of thought,
Endless ones;
Lines of green bread during winter,
Lines of yellow heads, bowing down in the presence of the sun
Lines of creation
The rubbing of charcoal against paper,
The fine bristles of a brush coming in contact with canvas
Leaving behind pigments of colored oil laying upon a surface
The infinite outline of the horizon
From;
Circles of polyphonic voices, dominate tonic progressions, modulations
Different shades’ of timbre combined,
The interconnection between sounds
A rivalry of rhythm
Leaving behind emotion;
Passion, sorrow, contentment, color;
A painting of pitch,
A story without words,
A tale, to be soon forgotten
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
