On the white canvas of ideas I pictured her as a fairy,
The most beautiful woman. It would be shame if I didn’t paint her.
I had met her on terrace. She had come to dry clothes.
She would look at me, hiding behind them. I too would blush.
Oh! She was an epitome of beauty, serenity and innocence,
Lurking in red dress, amidst the fluttering pigeons and clothes.
I made her posture, painted the beautiful ambience around her.
She laughed and said I cannot make half her beauty on canvas.
I knew if she would stare at me, I couldn’t even draw her.
Her chin I turned to her right, revealing locks kissing her cheek.
I pasted her face on canvas. But it wasn’t her jovial face.
That was real her, which I have learnt in her company.
I couldn’t forge her as smiling and brimming with happiness.
So real seemed her problems, that which my art failed to hide.
I tell her always that I will never leave her, whatsoever happens.
But I know she feels lonely in her core essence, one that I cannot rule.
She has a luring posture, that which the world in her sees, but
Alone she sits on a rock that is high above the ground, waiting.
She never tells me whom she waits for, or if she wants me to go away.
And when she sits there on the rock, weeds around captivate her.
Back on the terrace, when I had learnt not to blush and she meant
To reveal her bliss, throwing kisses at me, I would love her freedom.
Dreams she had were to relish a night by the river, fly butterflies,
Break stars from sky and sleep overnight on the moon. I should have
Feared the freedom, what would happen when she doesn’t have it.
The wings she had were set on fire. No more could she fly off the rock.
She was finally painted on the white canvas as a fairy indeed.
But captivated in immortal pain and depression, with desires that of humans.
She is alone, the black sun or the moon, reluctant to show her shadow,
As if she would cripple on seeing her lot, or would she burn herself.
Wind blows away her locks, spreading ashes off her fairy wings.
I hope the ashes reach the one she wants. I could, well, sit and paint.
Author notes
I tried to capture options 1, 3, 4 and 5.
It speaks about the artist's intention, his art, the woman he loves, and the enigmatic problems that she has in her life.
He depicts the correct state of his beloved as the painting. And the process of his painting her is also clear in the poem. How he relates to the lady as he had seen her initially and how he sees her now. And the painting which he finally paints relates well to both of his knowledge.
This also brings out the emotions that the artist has for the lady, but the feelings / intentions of the lady is left to the interpretation of the reader.
,i write passion.
A contest entry
- In Honor of Amy Brown #1 by bookbandit.
300 points, ended May 29, 2007, 2 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Poets With No Trophies # 1 by Harrisham Minhas.
420 points, ended June 19, 2007, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Your words are vibrant and vividly written. I could see the subject of your art. I could visualize her peering from behind the clothes, her red attire flowing in a slight breeze. Yes, this is well written. I am inspired often by visual art. For some reason it sparks, and ignites my muse. Lovely work here.
Much Love ♥
Renee
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Transcend All
As a painter I could relate to a lot of of you wrote and felt here.
She was finally painted on the white canvas as a fairy indeed.
But captivated in immortal pain and depression, with desires that of humans.
She is alone, the black sun or the moon, reluctant to show her shadow,
As if she would cripple on seeing her lot, or would she burn herself.
This stanza is full of emotion, colors of pain and sadness, bitter sweet reality. Thank you for putting this out here !
Namaste'
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Nice imagery in this emotional write.
Thanks for your entry. Good luck in my contest.
Harrisham Minhas
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i dunno how u c comments
so full info here :
poetry painting her, for contest poets with no trophies, user name: 'i write passion'
..
but i just got my first trophy (thats long after i submitted here) .. whats the outcome now ? am i DQ !!
basically FYI !!
,balli
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Please mention your username.
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It is a wonderful poem, truly beautiful. And I understand that you were trying to see the painting from the artist's point of veiw. Very good. But I don't think it was as accurate as I would have liked it. It was also very wordy, more like a story written in verse. Thank you for your entry and good luck.
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Brilliant.
Wow, amazing. Wonderful imagery, emotion and wording. This all played out like a story in my head. This piece is simply brilliant. I love it.
Have a wonderful day, and good luck in the contest,
FallenPoeticAngel
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