My Painting

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.