My brush graces the tulips, petals flaring with fuchsia.
A sweet golden pollen glistens on the anther's tips.
The smell of acrylic paint emanates from the blossoming fruit;
nature flowing from the slender hairs on my brush.
My scalpel digs deep into the soft meaty flesh;
carefully carving through the marrow-filled bone.
A viscid secretion oozes from the precise incision made.
Surgical repairs are dictated cleanly by my shimmering scalpel.
My hammer beats monotonously against the splintered wood;
a termite crawls out cautiously to be pounded to it's death.
Up and over, gravity leading the strike to the gray shred of iron;
preparing this petrified scrap into a home for my hammer.
My chisel sets to work against this smooth slab of stability;
molding a monstrosity into a magnificent marble masterpiece.
Michelangelo’s expression shall waver and falter with awe
underneath the empowering shadow of my confident chisel.
My hand expands and closes in a fist of frustration;
fearful fingers curled tight into my protecting palm.
Used indifferently for abuse and callous harassment;
the stains of impurity grace the fraudulent folds of my hand.
Author notes
This poem talks about the beauty and artistry of different tools and how they're used [for different professions such as architect, surgeon, artist, etc]. The last paragraph is about one of the most powerful tools of man [the hand] and instead of portraying it as beautiful like the other tools, it is ugly because it is used abusively by society.
Samantha Marie
Comments
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You have a very artistic view of things, this helps along with your skill with imagery and large volcabulary, awsome job. You can definately paint any image you desire into a readers mind. Im curious though, how do you view life?
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Thank you that was a great comment
Well life is a really general topic, what specifically about life?
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