The Paint Brush
Profound paintings on the world’s canvas
Produced by the stroke of divine paint brush
Tough, tender, slender and beauty luminous
Melt, mould discerning hearts or crush
Smiling, laughing faces with bubbling zest
Faces in agony and pain with rivulets of tears
Ugly, lustful faces, scheming and plotting to wrest
Faces sunk in gloom, torments, anguish and fears
Days sparkling with sun light of hope and aspiration
Moonlit nights wrapped in the ecstasy of romance
Demonized nights horrifying beyond imagination
Ducks in flight and peacocks whirling in dervish’s dance
Colorful chirping birds and singing nightingale
Roses, gardens, trees, butterflies and bees
Races black, white, yellow, brown strong and frail
All artistically crafted whichever way one sees
Refreshing serenity of the religious places of worship
And its contrast in hatred and abomination of war
Cool comfort and compassion of love and friendship
Bringing souls together from the near and far
How has the brush painted me in awe-inspiring scene?
Does the glow on my face transcend the virtues of my soul?
Am I embodiment of love and kindness or ugly obscene?
On canvas am I Colossus or dwarfed by selfish goal?
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.
