Essays, poems and Stories of an African-American

Tuesday, 4 June 2013


Life’s broad strokes;
reveal forms of outlines,
a web of patterns, a pastel finally charted,
a spot here, a daub, profusion makes the lot.

A form still and statuesque,
painters’ hands recreating,
Swish, swash goes a crayon,
rapid brushes of an outline.

In ordered rows sit the painters;
much like the symphony playing the water music,
The Princeton Art Society goes about their trade,
The still model calmly sits through the bidding.

Shrill, shrill goes the timer. It is the sixth break,
‘Oh! Wow! That is the smiling mood.’
This is how it is; if we only take the time,
a painting with the right mix comes out.

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