Painting With Worry and Regrets
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
I can never reason with myself,
under these circumstances,
of what better way,
to move so slowly,
push my back against the grass,
a spectator,
watching moon backlit clouds,
fly across,
an autumn hungry atmosphere.
All I can offer,
is to quench its thirst,
by cleaning my eyes and mind,
to see and think straight in due time.
Never needed to curtain my pupils,
to see a black canvas,
painting with worry and regrets.
Only when the end result
produces no beauty do I abandon the piece,
and discard my palette.
Then I'll find myself,
searching for new colors and shapes
I may have brought,
but have carelessly forgotten to use.
Attempting beauty is beautiful,
when clarity is the object of one's affection,
when summer roads end,
autumn turns us toward new directions,
sights,
and smells.
Receiving breaths of dew
and spent atmosphere,
I may give the half-moon,
my full smile.
At least until I can see it reflected,
on the darks canvases,
where I paint with worry and regrets.
under these circumstances,
of what better way,
to move so slowly,
push my back against the grass,
a spectator,
watching moon backlit clouds,
fly across,
an autumn hungry atmosphere.
All I can offer,
is to quench its thirst,
by cleaning my eyes and mind,
to see and think straight in due time.
Never needed to curtain my pupils,
to see a black canvas,
painting with worry and regrets.
Only when the end result
produces no beauty do I abandon the piece,
and discard my palette.
Then I'll find myself,
searching for new colors and shapes
I may have brought,
but have carelessly forgotten to use.
Attempting beauty is beautiful,
when clarity is the object of one's affection,
when summer roads end,
autumn turns us toward new directions,
sights,
and smells.
Receiving breaths of dew
and spent atmosphere,
I may give the half-moon,
my full smile.
At least until I can see it reflected,
on the darks canvases,
where I paint with worry and regrets.
