Being a Sketch Artist with Poetic Heart

Fantasy of my ‘ART’,

Invented like  drizzling,  through the deep,

Consciousness of dreaming ‘HEART’,

One leg down and another over my head,

Did I sit in ‘Yoga’ over my sweet bed?

No no! It was finger, direct from the heart,

pointed that what just I ‘SKETCHED’ in my palm,

Oh…Yes! I dreamed it,

Once it was here, but now where?

That ‘FLOWER’ and ‘POT’, of childhood

Which just I wrote….

One line over other line,

Sliding over and over,

meshing and crashing their own face,

Look like a jungle of ‘HAIR’.

Up up up,

Down down down,

Bisect that wooden boat,

Second before hanged with base,

Now flowing in position like wave.

Centered that rounded plate,

Keep it with grounded face.

Oh! look its watching us,

My art, into a ‘EYE’….Imagine

Imagine it high…..

I did, I amused..

You do you will….

It keeps people alive, in depression,

Or in a time when tension so high.

A pen inside your finger,

Don’t play,

Let it slide on paper…..


try it, to see insight,

What you did, on paper’s thigh,

I did it, when depressed

But in the end

I find a new ‘RACE’

Being a ‘POET’ it’s simple,

But being ‘ARTIST’, looks like

everything is Mingle.