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Free Love Poems \

Painting



Painting
By theswimmer90 on 04/19/2009
Viewed: 427
Reviews: 6
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I pick up the mighty pen and touch it ever so gently to the parchment and allow my heart, my soul to flow to the paper as ink, twisting and weaving the seemingly simple and easy words of language into a deeply complex painting of images within the mind’s eye that provoke and draw emotion to the conscious.

I write these words for you, I write these words as a feeble attempt to capture the pure essence of love as it is in it’s sheer natural state, not the Polaroid image created by the media, but true love at its best. I attempt to capture this rare, fleeting emotion as I think of you, ponder what you are doing, who you are thinking of. My very being is poured into the endeavor to try to describe the most famous (and infamous) of emotions.

I search within the darkest crevices of my conscious and subconscious for the right words, the right deion of love, but nothing seems adequate to even begin to describe these thoughts. At last, I fall upon what just barely grazes the ultimate concept behind the canvas of woven words and complete the work with the flourishes of color and design that further my attempt to describe the impossible. But alas, I am finished, my work complete until the next, my soul ravished, spilled out across the parchment as a symbol, a model, a tribute to the goddess of the meaning of life, the goddess of love.

And yet, with this emotional commitment to my work , it means nothing, the image painted within the mind is only words upon a page, just another jumble of letters written to you with no meaning. These attempts to tame the impossible and capture the essence of life itself go largely ignored, overshadowed by failed attempts to make you happy. These rare pieces may be appreciated, they may be saved, but they are not seen as tokens of love, no, they are seen only as time wasted by the writer at a foolish attempt at the impossible, time that could have been spent trying to create happiness, but again failing.

In the end, I only ask you to appreciate my attempts to bottle lightning, appreciate them for what they are, a little piece of my soul and my spirit sprawled out on paper for the world to see. For if they continued to be ignored and forgotten, the will to create and weave slowly fades… slowly…. Until…… gone…. forever



Please review this poem, i promise to review anyones poem who reviews mine. Thank you so much.
~Z



~* Poetry is the soul contained within the ink *~

© By theswimmer90 On 4/19/2009 3:58:33 AM
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