The Poets Gallery

Do step in and stay a while

This is my temple of worship

Adorned on its walls you see

Framed emotions

I know she must have said

That a collector of hearts is he

Pray, let me have you a look

I insist.

See this painting of water colours

They run on the canvas like a bubbling brook

Coursing like the river which might

Have one day etched Mars

And its frame has no boundaries

For even though the ocean could

It swallows not the land.

And this picture here is a treatise in oil

Gold and silver and shining bright

Sparkling and shimmering fireflies

On many a forest of pine

Natural Christmas tress they be

Ever festive and forever holy

The joy of giving.

The painting yonder is a beauty

Pastel hues and honeydew

Sunkissed poppies swaying hypnotically

Golden brown and canary yellow

The lushness of wholesome fields

God’s brush stretching into the infinite horizon

The virgin of the innocent.

Come this way and look at the sketch

Engraved upon this sheet of white

Deliberate smudges and purposeful strokes

Depth in profile and boldness of design

Even the blacks have shades so many

There lies colour in its whites

No greys here.

And do you stare now upon that frame

Adorning the eastern wall

It encloses a sublime work of art

For in it you see that which IS

Simply a mirror of your self

Go ahead and kiss the reflection

Which is you.

I am no collector of hearts

They are but a part of my yesterday

They will shape my tomorrow

My now

The last painting that never was

Nor will it never not be

For the painter

Is you.

~Vikram C~

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