Blank Canvas

Emergence of my soul
Departs a blemish on the primed space
Stroking it with judgment and each brand new inhalation
My sweat, skin and fingerprints connect and attach to the alluring surface

Gliding over the fibers
I hear a crisp smooth sound of the initial brush-stroke
Paint invigorates my senses as it awakens the face of void and essence
Thirsty fibrous buds open and drink, soaking up pigment of the color spectrum

I take a breath and exhale
Dipping my brush into the element of cleansing
Water drowns the residual dye as micro bubbles dance with vigor
Purging and abolishing while creating a fresh conduit for the next visitor of color

The primed and blank canvas
No longer a virgin of the purest innocence and bareness
Image of a goddess is born, then studied and constructed with firm strokes
Ready she awaits to absorb a new touch, direction of the master awaiting a change

Blocks

I counted the numbers one, two, three,
on the colored blocks of my busy little bee.
She stacked them high as far the eye can see,
the fundamental blocks of learning A, B, C.

Wrapped up in her excitement I was not aware
the few blocks on the ground, oh boy BEWARE!
Hopping over them I stumbled hearing a crack,
tripping and tumbling, falling to hurt my back.

Stiff and sore I thought of writing her joys,

her innocent play as she adored the toys.
A block I acquired as my fingers froze,
brain over thinking I was numb to my toes.

 

As I shook off quickly the writers block,
hammering noise, on the door they knock.
Interrupted once more I was unable to sit,
annoyed and restless, boy was my pot now lit.

Spent all day thinking of the style to write,
laptop still off and is nowhere in sight.
Busy with guests as I given them my time,
my mind on the work of text and rhyme.

Finally evening, moment of quiet hour,
I was fed, rested even had a long hot shower.
Pulling up a chair, eager to type with hype,
I had soon discovered we were out of power.

Grabbing a paper pad I hurried quick,
I got seated in corner by the candles flick.
tiresomely discovered my pen was out of ink,
my booming laugh exploded at the bombs last tick.

I surrendered to the types of all my blocks,
interruptions, the wooden and even clocks.
Another day passed and concluded so fast,
Somehow I managed to write my words at last.