The exercise:
The topic for this week's four line poem is: the painter.
Inspired by our balcony finally getting a new paint job. It'll be nice to get all these plants out of the living room - unfortunately I have to wait a few days before the floor is ready to have stuff on it.
Mine:
His fingers move like paintbrushes,
His lips sing a song of colors.
When the painting is done at last,
His soul mourns 'til the next's begun.
2 comments:
Sounds like you have a lot of plants then! Are they all decorative, or do you have herbs in there as well? Sadly I have no plants, but that may change when we do the kitchen, we get a little window box for herbs.
I like your poem and the idea of the painter's soul mourning when it's not painting.
The painter
She didn't deliver the piece on time,
So we checked the contract and made a call,
And our delinquent painter
Is now framed and hanging on the wall.
Oh, there's hardly any decorative, haha. We've got like three basil plants, an oregano plant, chives, a couple tomato plants, um... mint... a few others I'm forgetting. I'm too lazy to turn the lights on and check.
I'm a big fan of poetic justice, so I'm quite pleased by your poem :D
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