The sticky brown smell of oil paint fills my lungs
As she delicately touches her painting with the tip of a brush
I stare at my canvas
Blank, save the dirty brown wash as background.
Pictures of resplendent quetzals
Surround me.
We, the flat birds and snakes waiting for imagination, and I,
We are in our own world a while.
Flitting images of slender feathered serpents
Fly-slithering through a rainforest
As green sunlight reflects of his scales and plumage
To finally perch on a young girl's shoulder
Melting into a past water droplet...
Oh no. Not again.
The other soul-paintings of young artists
Merge with my thoughts.
This will take forever.
Author notes
Another poetic exercise in my Creative Writing class, to pick a class and write a poem about it, how you experience it. There is a lot to experience in Advanced Drawing and Painting.
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