Jaded lashes quiver,
Peering into illusions unknown.
From where I stand I see...
Darkness disappear, and dawn grow.
Till now it reflected,
A dark iris back at me.
It's a palette turning into...
Strokes of a memory.
A little morsel on nature's plate,
Crafting a dream in my wake.
Dark sketched brows...
A dash for vermilion.
Underneath I see,
Bottled up misery.
White has been mixed,
My mind jinxed.
Majentic story,
Dripping in its glory,
Splashing painted harmony.
No colour can match.
No warmth can flush,
This face,
This masterpiece of the sun's faith,
And the moon's love!
Good poem and the painting too; esp. 2nd last stanza.
ReplyDeleteWorth the wait.
@syed Thanks a lot! :)
DeleteThe panorama so beautifully described....the elusive and perfect moment at the stroked of the hour between sunrise and the setting of the moon...
ReplyDeletewonderfully done...been a few days but the silken touch still exists and flows in your words. loved it. tc!
@ Maverick Thanks I'm so glad to hear that....been long since i wrote. Enchanting painting, isn't it? Couldn't help 'evading' it :)
ReplyDelete