An Artist and Her Brush
Free verse — It’s Complicated: Lit Up & TWC Contest
I am a Kolinsky sable brush.
I hope I don’t sound like a braggart, but I am a supreme, elastic soft hair brush that forms a beautifully shaped long pointed tip and allows effortless control of the paint flow.
And the day this beautifully crafted brush meets a pair of beautifully crafted hands from God, my journey truly starts.
And I go with the flow, as the days go by…
I am an artist.
I am now who I am today thanks to my hard work, my passion and those who have supported me. I think there is nothing more beautiful or enjoyable than splashing out your emotions on canvas for the world to behold.
But every paintbrush needs the perfect artist, and every artist needs the perfect, compatible brush she desires. And I finally find the brush I desire.
And I go with the flow, as the days go by…
My chum doesn’t need to tell me why she is so happy today.
Why she has such a large smile, why she skips around the place.
The moment she holds me with her firm, yet gentle grip, I know everything.
And I smoothly skid across the page.
As I paint a spectrum of colours rising from the earth.
As I create a world, where the sun is always in the sky and shines upon us.
I find peace.
I find true peace in this breathtaking scene.
So I take a loose, free grip on my mate, as we give birth to a work that conveys these feelings of mine.
And my brush elegantly glides from corner to corner.
As I paint these tall, great, majestic mountains.
As I recreate the breaking darkness, the blazing sky.
Ours is a strange relationship. We have no need for words for understanding each other. All we need are feelings.
Her radiant face of usual is now devoid of colour.
She sulks and sighs and longs to go back to the good times with me- she wishes to regain her lost sky.
And she grasps me with her slack, lifeless hand- I plunge into the black.
And I swing and sway on top of the paper.
As I paint a world immersed in darkness.
As I form a sad face, a glistening jewel falling to the ground.
I experience anger.
I experience anger beyond any bonds.
And I take a tight and shaking grip on my companion, which I can’t help but not to do.
So my brush tries to help me to take out this spontaneous outburst on canvas.
And my brush flawlessly jerks from point to point, steps from side to side with sharp movements, upon the canvas.
As I paint mankind in red.
As I produce volcanoes on the earth, rain clouds in the sky.
Ours is a peculiar relationship. We were, are and always will be for each other, in bright and dark times- be the world be for us or not.
I perform a different dance each time; each one no less intriguing.
And my pal, the artist, dips me in her own soul, and paints her feelings into every new world we blow life into…
As I am a paintbrush and my world is the canvas.
I and my brush carry out a new recital every time; each one no less fascinating.
And I immerse my comrade, the brush in my soul, and I paint these feelings which my buddy understands so well, as we bring the universe itself into creation.
As this artist relies on her brush, to create the world she dreams of on canvas.
We are less than lovers, yet more than friends. Yes, an odd yet special bond indeed.
26 February, 2019
