December 17, 2008
By Jaron Ritter, Indian Trail, NC

As the dancer turns around
As the artist's brush goes up and down
A ribbon turns as well
Turning tight around the dancer's leg
It doesn't faze
She jumps in air
The artist who is a he
Strokes down and up and up and down
Through the air
On the canvas
Long lean strokes
She bends gracefully moving slow and fast
Through a room of white
Pass a door
Into a room with paintings on the wall
They are all very tall
Ceilings so high she feels like a kite
She looks at a face and then another
They all have beady eyes that seem to follow
The artist see's a look in the dancer's eye
He to see's the paintings on the wall
She floats in the room
Making sure she is followed by the glares
The ribbon is so tight
The leg is starting to go numb
It is suffocating her leg
She feels nothing
He see's this
He copies on his canvas
As she leaps through the wall
The ribbon makes it's way toward her hip and around her abdomen
Up her neck and around her face
She is blind
But is still able to see
He copies every motion on to his canvas
Using colors of paints he brushes down and up up and down
When his hand has stopped
She is frozen in air
With the ribbon around her hair
These two are artist not the same in fact
One on a canvas the other laying on his back
She is frozen
He is not
Through works of art
They are both a start
Motion is the same as still
Though one is painted and other not
Some things have more thought
Others are done without
We can move but there will always be a stillness in the air
No matter if we are painted or for real.

The author's comments:
Actually I wrote this poem not to long ago! I sent it in as extra credit, and yes I did get the extra credit.


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