My canvas

I face my canvas
There i stand with nothing but one brush in my hand
I lift it high and hesitate
for whats to come may not start at the top
but rather from the bottom going up
Only then will it have room to grow
And become something beautiful
I get down on my knees and i place a dot
Just a dot
The dot spreads and moves
blends and whirls
swoops and fades
only to rejoin and make shape
The shape dark with faded edges not quite done
just a sillohuete of whats to come
A shadow of a man
the colour darkens
Creating contours
a face is sculpted
eyes closed
mouth parted
His eyelids flicker as he gains life
His lips twitch into a smile
His eyes now open wide and full
The deepest brightest darkest blue
Full of life and light and kindness
radiating warmth and strength
A smile of wonder, sincere and coy
He takes a breath





Words by stef lai
Read 892 times
Written on 2014-08-18 at 21:45

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
I imagine that this often is how it's done. With poetry, though, I almost always start at the top.
2014-08-19