I would like to paint masterpieces with my words.
Fill the air with the sounds
of amber, scarlet and indigo,
create brush strokes with the flow of my sentences.
Paint pictures of blossoming flowers,
of the benevolent sun dancing in the vast sky.
Tell tales of the willing trees
being tousled by the powerful wind.
To simply sketch the black and white contours
of an image through my diction,
to depict all the details in a bird’s feathered coat
by simply describing it.
I would like to be the
craftsman, the artisan, the illustrator
of all the things that I see within my mind’s eye.
The developer of the images that form with my thoughts.
I would like to create paintings
with the fruit of my lips.
To portray my view at life.
To outline art with words.