Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Phraseology

1. the brush strokes of dawn tickle my spine
like an empty canvas painted
i am colored

2. hear me! oh glorious sun
bend your rays in my dark corners

3. i glanced at the white sheet in front of me
my brush, lackluster with days of monotony
flakes of paint scatter on the table

4. i blinked
nothingness
i sighed
cornucopia.

8 comments:

  1. this poem makes you seem older. i wonder why.

    ReplyDelete
  2. wehehe. i guess i my mental age is older than my actual age.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Man, You're a poet! Thanks for sharing. Young minds are just too wild nowadays.. Cheers to that! Anyway, This article is quite interesting - Poetry

    ReplyDelete
  4. geez. thanks. that's very sweet mikhaelangel. ^^

    ReplyDelete