Tag: feelings

Once I met a painter
A fine and petit young man
At the corner of the street he lived
Working away, minding his business
And living so solitary, that I wondered

“Hallo sir! What do you really paint?”
I must have sounded sheepish
For who won’t call a pen, a writer
When you know the pen writes?
“I paint ALL things! I paint you
I paint all you feel and care for”
He answered, hiding his resentment
Or yet, perhaps he didn’t get my jeer
I shuddered, strange it sounded
“My feelings and cares, hmm” I grunted
“But now I am carefree, how can you paint that?”
He looked at me, abandoned my talk
And turned the board he was working on
A magnificient picture stood before me
Some hues of blue, suggesting the skies
A tint of greens surrounding the lower board
And a yellow ball which I called the sun
Then on the middle, was a lonely Elephant
Raising his trunk high into the sky
More like, he was saluting someone up there
And I asked why he painted a lonely Elephant
“Shouldn’t he be having a family, sort of?”
He shrugged, smile and brought the image down
“He is lonely, only to his thoughts
He owes no one, he fears no one
He cares and loves himself, as he is” he replied
Perhaps the world had been crude to him I felt
Like he understood my mind, he smiled
“Now sit right there, Im gona paint you”
He said excitedly, pointing to a seat
His head will stuck out
Now and then to peer at me
I put up my best smile
Something inbetween a tear and innocency
He was’nt bothered at my look
My sister would have blurted out
“Ugh! Please change that face, Oke!”
Well, I tried to enjoy it, while it lasted
When the boredom tried to come upon me
He then was finally done; with a sigh
“Okay, and here we go; your portrait”
He carefully, turned the image to my view
I saw the image stare at me in confusion
Or was I the one confused; anyhow
Someone, somebody was truly muddled
Havent noticed my jaws were dropped
Till when I had need for talking
“Uhm, okay. I can’t explain the connection
Of I and, and eh… Him” I pointed at the image
“But deep down me, that guy, that painting
Feels like a part of me, feels like me!”
The painter laughed, enjoying my confusion
“Well, painting is like the revolving Earth
Each time you try to look at it,
Each gaze seem to be the very best
At certain point, at the age of the youth
Things, reasoning come to you different
But for your confusion and the Elephant
Do you now understand why I paint?”