Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Canvas and Colours

‘Hold on !
Just hold on
Your mundane brush
And dare not soil
My silken skin
With the cheap colour
You purchased from the local market
On a Sunday window-shopping’

Thus commanded
The virgin canvas
While preparing itself
For long voluntary wait
For the right colours
Both deep and worthy.

For years
It was waiting
Like the accursed stone
At the workshop of my heart
In a dreamy passivity
By holding together
The abstract criss-cross
Of the sagging fabric
Till a wrinkled eternity.

Today, during an unusually heavy
Urban evening
Sitting on your drawing room sofa
Over a badly prepared cup of tea
I gazed, I gazed at your pretty profile
And your lovely eyes
Dispassionately as usual,
When the lonesome Evening-star
Got itself suspended
Over your roof-top,
Like a kingfisher.
I tell you, I tell you
That was the moment
When I felt an unusually
Deep commotion
Rustle and bustle
Definite twist
And an uneasy urgency
At the work-shop of my heart.

‘Steal the colours at once
From her lips warm and extra-red
And paint me all over!’

Thus came the Second commandment
From the immaculate canvas
And I painted
A masterpiece.

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