poem 4

Art

 

The sweeping strokes,

Of the idle brush,

As it created the rainbow

Across the silent page.

 

The foreign nonsense

Scrawled across the smooth lines;

Which is then interpreted

Into the harmonious, extensive noise.

 

The rhythmic clicking

Emitting from the contraption

Grasped in the firm hold,

Whilst facing utter beauty.

 

The thick concentration

From the entertainers thoughts,

As he released his imagination

For the entire world to read.

 

Painting...

Music...

Photography...

Literature...

 

 

Art...

The End

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