The Painters Son

His soft fluid motion

drawing me in, with his paradoxical movements.

This surreal moment will stay with me

for an eternity.

My heavy head

struggling to move with

His

Nimble hands,

and his impeccable form wrapping me in. His soul is captured in this,

only this.

I can hear his heavy breath, rapidly increasing.

His head swiftly turning,

breaking me out of this hazy trance.

My gaze turns to a pot on the sun lit windowsill. I don’t look back,

petrified that I will fall back in.

 

 

I really was thinking about what to write my poem about and I was thinking about my hobbies. The first thing that came to mind was art so I started writing. Some of the elements of poetry in this poem are line breaks and Imagery. I am really proud of this poem because I tweaked it so much that it went from an okay poem to a great poem. I really made it understandable and I used some things that I have learned from art in this poem.