Sunday, October 29, 2006

A Canvas and A Storm 

This one's all about rhythm! 'Nuff said.

A canvas and a storm

I stare idly at my canvas
too white even for a cloud

charcoal clouds fill the sky
and it's chilly outside

I begin to see nature for a theme
remember a place in my dream

I hear the gentle rustle of leaves
the patter of rain on the roof

With my steady hand I sketch
luscious trees on a verdant hill

the wind is getting stronger
I hear a faint whistle from my window sill

I dip my brush and begin to paint
thinly at first to fill in the space
then wildly as my vision takes shape

whistle becomes a howl
gust of winds coming from north to south
east to west, below and above

Swoosh swoosh goes my brush
I slam on wads of thick paints
violets, yellows, reds and greens
violent strokes of impasto like Gogh

outside, plant pots drop
so do billboards, trees and electric posts
woosh woosh there goes the neighbor's roof
blag blag blag goes my gutter up above

My landscape is almost done
with lavander trees, orange skies and lemon sun
trees stand proud and thick with leaves
while I hear the drip drip drip from my kitchen roof
I see strewn branches of trees all over my yard
debris from all around as in a war.

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