A collection of poems for The National Poetry Month 2020.
All in different forms. Each a learning experience.
🏆 First place in Azurite Awards (Moonstone - Poetry)
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Art is but a sublime expression of your heart, The light you impart, when your soul, you crack apart.
Powdered minerals of myriad hues, Pastel or mixed in water or oil; Brushes, or at times, fingers he does use, On canvas or paper does he toil.
With deft strokes, he paints, light, strong or dark Portraits captured for eternity; Sunrises, landscapes or flowering park Nature preserved in tranquility.
Ochre and coal in caves, ink on paper, Fresco, murals on ceilings and walls; Bold graffiti, in brilliant colour, Masterpieces hung in the museum halls.
Art is but a sublime expression of your heart, The light you impart, when your soul, you crack apart.
Then there is the master of the word, Inventing worlds and spinning tales; A pen is the wand of this wizard, When with his stories, he regales.
In history they imbue romance, Explore space, travel faster than light; Through fantasy, lead you on a dance, Plunge you in horror, shaking in fright.
Nothing is sacrosanct nor taboo, Public, private views never matter; If tales do not make you think and rue, Poetry shall, all your tenets, shatter.
Art is but a sublime expression of your heart, The light you impart, when your soul, you crack apart.
In the wings, amidst shadows she waits, Nervous within, cool and calm without; Once the music starts, she captivates, She's grace in motion, beyond doubt.
Fleet of foot, lithe of limb, nimbly glides, Soaring turns, tumbling lifts, step ball change; Severe routine, serene smile hides, Joy for weariness, a best exchange.
Tarlatan tutus or silken skirts Pointe Shoes with ribbons, bells on anklets; Painted bare chested or clothed in frothy shirts, For a dancer, these are mere trinkets.
Art is but a sublime expression of your heart, The light you impart, when your soul, you crack apart.
Melody, or aria, a sweet voice, A song is poetry with music Hearing a song, with tears you rejoice; Move to the rhythm, or sing the lyric.
And in huts or factories, in small towns, Silken strands of brilliance thread the loom; Lacing the yarn, weaving silk for gowns, The warp of despair, and weft of gloom.
A block of wood or a chunk of stone, Whittled or carved with a chisel and knife; Sculpted to life and to perfection shown, Figures of Gods or simple wildlife.
Art is but a sublime expression of your heart, The light you impart, when your soul, you crack apart.
But only to such lofty pursuits, Nor only by such forms is art bound; In grit and passion, it has its roots, And all around you, it can be found.
An intricate tapestry you sew, Or the culinary dishes you make; The garden grown in a pretty row, Hidden In each of them, art did spake.
For when with love, you do something, Putting in a sliver of your soul; What into existence you do bring, Takes time, effort yet leaves you whole.
Art is but a sublime expression of your heart, The light you impart, when your soul, you crack apart.
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465 words - that is quite long. So thank you for reading it.
As to the form, I am not sure- it is closest to a ballad (A typical ballad is a plot-driven song, with one or more characters hurriedly unfurling events leading to a dramatic conclusion. Often, a ballad does not tell the reader what's happening, but rather shows the reader what's happening, describing each crucial moment in the trail of events. To convey that sense of emotional urgency, the ballad is often constructed in quatrain stanzas, each line containing as few as three or four stresses and rhyming either the second and fourth lines, or all alternating lines. They might or might not have refrains)
The form I have used is 3 quartains with an abab rhyme, each line having 9 syllables and a couplet refrain of aa rhyme and having 11 syllables. Challenging but fun.
