August 5, 2011
Blank paper
White canvas
My world is a box
The walls empty
Ceiling bare

My hand
Is a brush
My mind
The paint

Twirling and swirling
Around the

Creating that
Which cannot be


Has not been

Do not

Trees sway and dance
Wolves howl in tune
To the beat and music
Of my world

Ideas fly on
Golden wings
Here the impossible
is possible
Here my mind is free

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This article has 5 comments. Post your own now!

Thesilentraven This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Aug. 13, 2011 at 7:37 pm

Great, you really let your mind paint the picture of painting a picture. Does that make any sense? It does to me. I can only imagine the incredible freedom that you're describing here.

Be free!

savetheplanet replied...
Aug. 13, 2011 at 9:28 pm
It makes sense (smiles).  Oh you can imagine it Raven, with all the beautiful poetry you write I think you can imagine it.
Tiwaz said...
Aug. 13, 2011 at 5:16 pm
Nice. :) You're helping me get over my artist's block. 
IamtheshyStargirl said...
Aug. 13, 2011 at 12:21 pm
Beautiful, though not quite as visual as your usual work. I love the first two lines of the last stanza, that is a beautiful picture. It reminds me of the golden snitch. 
savetheplanet replied...
Aug. 13, 2011 at 1:21 pm
Thanks.  I didn't really want to make this one visual though.  The whole point of the poem is that you create your world, so I didn't want to fill your head with a vision.  You had to fill it yourself.  Also, my world is completely contradictory :)  In my box, I'm free.
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