She sits at the smooth desk,
waiting for inspiration to come to her
before she makes even one etching on her paper.
Nothing stirs.
The pencil is repeatedly tapped in impatience
and she sighs,
hoping for a slight remnant of life within her creative mind.
Nothing stirs.
Ruffling her hair and scratching her head,
she makes a mark to begin her drawing.
She looks at it for a moment.
The paper is ripped apart
and cast away into the wastebasket
like the rest of the broken ideas.
She resumes her pondering.
Headaches and fevers ensue,
flooding her with unending frustration and desperation.
New ideas, something unique! Please give me anything!
Still, Nothing stirs.
She gives up.
All hope is lost.
Whatever.
She pushes herself away from her desk
and throws open her drawer,
snatching her palette full of mundane colors and slams them down.
She grabs a frizzled brush,
determined to put a stop to her idleness and start working.
She soaks the brush in water and dips into gray.
Nothing stirs.
Anger now set into her.
She stabs the notebook,
filling it with smoky bloodstains.
Over and over and over,
until the picture looks familiar.
Something stirred.
Intrigued,
she takes black and a thin, fine brush
and smears it all around the gray.
Adding white,
she attaches windows and dimension to the black and gray.
With brown,
she adds reflection and contour to the gray and white.
She takes red soft strokes
and creates petals on to the gray.
It takes hours to perfect before
the painting is finished.
She takes a look at the paper.
Her eyes widen and shock runs through her body.
She unknowingly made a reflection of herself by accident.
YOU ARE READING
Pallete
شِعرpoems (possibly stories) relating to art, which can range from painting to pottery to drawing and much more purpose is to evoke emotion i hope you enjoy reading it! feel free to comment suggestions, tips, or stories you want to hear about PLEASE NOT...
