Beneath the hands of a painter
Reality fights with fantasy
His canvasses and drafts
Shall capture souls of wildness
Art along with patience
United by his passion
Creates pattern of realness
Unchains prowess of hunger
His lines, strokes, sketches
Part of his daily living
With an aim to reveal
Love for the creations
Deep within the paintings
Announces a sudden event
One that can describe
A painter’s interests
A drawing in simplicity
But a magic in grandeur
Portraits, landscapes, abstract
Names that beyond the meanings
With his palette, he paints
A mind that imagines all
A heart wants to express
In the art created by a gifted.
****partly true, partly made up. You just decide what.***
Sunday, April 6, 2008
The Painter
Posted by emylane at 09:18 2 comments
Friday, April 4, 2008
Just a question
Smile
Truth
Phony
Sign of consciousness
Laugh
Forced
Blind
Or a vagabond?
Chuckle
Crusty
Restrained
Accompanied by whispers
Delight
So heavenly
Full of life
Or a worthless act
What is within your smile?
Do you still have to hide it?
The uniqueness of you
Never would let you run
What do you have?
Accepted it in anyway?
Ask your inner self
What its real content
Well, how would you declare
That id never responded.
****partly true, partly made up. You just decide what.***
Posted by emylane at 16:44 0 comments
Curtains of the Northern Sky
Curtains of the Northern Sky
The pleasantness of the day is as good as of the night. It does not have any distinguished difference for a child like Manuel, as long as the first does not affect the latter. As long as he can play his violin and have fun with his friends and family, everything is good and bright. No rainy days for him. Not until, he had a chance to see the northern lights, aurora borealis scientifically, that changed him into someone apart from his old self.
As Manuel went home, it was late, the dark had spread already, and he looked up to see the moon shining brightly above him. He had a feeling that the night will cause him a bundle of scornful comments from his mother. Not that he care anyway, he thought. He just walked leisurely and enjoyed the peaceful night. The wind blew behind him, building goose bumps in his skin, and a shivering cold in his body. Good thing I had a jacket, he thought again. Anyway that never even worry him a little bit, he continued his stroll to his own home late at night. He had looked back to see that he was the only kid loitering on the lane of olive trees, not even disturbed, he sat down and took out his violin. As Manuel stared at the moonlight, he played the violin with all the tranquillity he had been feeling deep inside. His music strayed along with the ethereal wind. Manuel had that wonderful talent only a few could have; even a busy squirrel on the oak tree would stop if Manuel’s music were on the air.
The dark finally had its power on the land of Manuel, and the kid did not even bother to worry of the lateness of the time. Far north of the night sky, a faint glow of light implicitly touches the horizon. Manuel just stared, shrugged, and continued playing his violin. Then a long, writhing snake-like ribbon appeared over the dark sector stretching across the horizon from left to right. As the moment seized to be praised, Manuel looked above his head and suddenly surprised that the ribbon was rapidly approaching his head and had already evolved itself into a rippling curtain of ghostly green light, even tinged neon-pink. Very opposing to the way he had acted earlier, Manuel started to find safety for his violin and decided to put it into his bursting knapsack. Got his feet walking faster or even running staggered, to escape the luring curtain of cosmic light. His house was still far, a matter of an hour walking to reach it. He tried to fast his pace and he did not even have to glance back to see that the light had captured him effortlessly, and he was trapped by the ghostly aura of its.
Manuel thought all the worse would happen to him after being succumbed by the light, who could have blame for him thinking anything at all, being a kid not more than eight years, living brightly and worriless life far from a dazzling lights and bustling sounds of the city. For about an hour, he felt numbed by the moment. The green light had became composed of hundreds of fingers of light all waggling furiously. They seemed alive with the activity weaving like a silent waterfall of light, constantly pouring down from the sky yet never reaching the ground; they looked like ghost dancing in the night sky. The aurora is a ballerina dancing gracefully on the sky’s surface with her mystic moves and sultry music along with these amazing lights.
He watched adrift to nothing, ignorant and frightened until the lights faded up to the north sky. He had not noticed that his knapsack already hit the ground and his shorts were already wet, he was sweating profusely and his tears were dripping on his face nonchalance. The greatest event he had set his eyes on was the event when he felt that nerve-pulsating fear he had never felt before his entire childhood resulting to a drastic change of his character. Back to where he was, Manuel absent-mindedly picked up his bag and run to reach his house, running for his life like a mad kid.
At last, he came home, searching for his mother with now had the eyes full of concern and worry, he cried full and hard, speechless and serious. After that storming emotions finally eluded him, he started to jabber his experience to his Mom. Sympathising with her son she had just hugged his son very tight, caging him with her motherly warmth and explained that the event did not meant to scare him but instead enchant him more about the beauty of his surroundings.
His life had move on even if he did not want to move on. He felt like sitting on a corner of his room, knees close to his chest and tried to erase that dreadful night in his memory; however, the life itself did not even let him to continue resting on his own inventive refuge, he had to grow up eventually, forcefully. He started to see his surroundings in a different way, no more leisure strolling late at night but instead, reading books of told stories about the ghost light he had terribly seen. The broken violin never been repaired but an old model of camera had been hanging on his neck since then.
Manuel became irritable and moody, serious and smugly. Never really understands the drastic change, some nearby folks thought the Snow Queen’s mirror had shattered again and drifted to Manuel’s eyes without his knowing during the appearing of the aurora. Folklore persists to survive even though the time itself tries to extinct them. Anyway, that was a different story to think about but Manuel’s story had just faded through the time as his some fellow kids had been.
The pleasantness of the day is as good as of the night. It does not have any distinguished difference for a child like Manuel, as long as the first does not affect the latter. As long as he can play his violin and have fun with his friends and family, everything is good and bright. No rainy days for him. Not until, he had a chance to see the northern lights, aurora borealis scientifically, that changed him into someone apart from his old self.
As Manuel went home, it was late, the dark had spread already, and he looked up to see the moon shining brightly above him. He had a feeling that the night will cause him a bundle of scornful comments from his mother. Not that he care anyway, he thought. He just walked leisurely and enjoyed the peaceful night. The wind blew behind him, building goose bumps in his skin, and a shivering cold in his body. Good thing I had a jacket, he thought again. Anyway that never even worry him a little bit, he continued his stroll to his own home late at night. He had looked back to see that he was the only kid loitering on the lane of olive trees, not even disturbed, he sat down and took out his violin. As Manuel stared at the moonlight, he played the violin with all the tranquillity he had been feeling deep inside. His music strayed along with the ethereal wind. Manuel had that wonderful talent only a few could have; even a busy squirrel on the oak tree would stop if Manuel’s music were on the air.
The dark finally had its power on the land of Manuel, and the kid did not even bother to worry of the lateness of the time. Far north of the night sky, a faint glow of light implicitly touches the horizon. Manuel just stared, shrugged, and continued playing his violin. Then a long, writhing snake-like ribbon appeared over the dark sector stretching across the horizon from left to right. As the moment seized to be praised, Manuel looked above his head and suddenly surprised that the ribbon was rapidly approaching his head and had already evolved itself into a rippling curtain of ghostly green light, even tinged neon-pink. Very opposing to the way he had acted earlier, Manuel started to find safety for his violin and decided to put it into his bursting knapsack. Got his feet walking faster or even running staggered, to escape the luring curtain of cosmic light. His house was still far, a matter of an hour walking to reach it. He tried to fast his pace and he did not even have to glance back to see that the light had captured him effortlessly, and he was trapped by the ghostly aura of its.
Manuel thought all the worse would happen to him after being succumbed by the light, who could have blame for him thinking anything at all, being a kid not more than eight years, living brightly and worriless life far from a dazzling lights and bustling sounds of the city. For about an hour, he felt numbed by the moment. The green light had became composed of hundreds of fingers of light all waggling furiously. They seemed alive with the activity weaving like a silent waterfall of light, constantly pouring down from the sky yet never reaching the ground; they looked like ghost dancing in the night sky. The aurora is a ballerina dancing gracefully on the sky’s surface with her mystic moves and sultry music along with these amazing lights.
He watched adrift to nothing, ignorant and frightened until the lights faded up to the north sky. He had not noticed that his knapsack already hit the ground and his shorts were already wet, he was sweating profusely and his tears were dripping on his face nonchalance. The greatest event he had set his eyes on was the event when he felt that nerve-pulsating fear he had never felt before his entire childhood resulting to a drastic change of his character. Back to where he was, Manuel absent-mindedly picked up his bag and run to reach his house, running for his life like a mad kid.
At last, he came home, searching for his mother with now had the eyes full of concern and worry, he cried full and hard, speechless and serious. After that storming emotions finally eluded him, he started to jabber his experience to his Mom. Sympathising with her son she had just hugged his son very tight, caging him with her motherly warmth and explained that the event did not meant to scare him but instead enchant him more about the beauty of his surroundings.
His life had move on even if he did not want to move on. He felt like sitting on a corner of his room, knees close to his chest and tried to erase that dreadful night in his memory; however, the life itself did not even let him to continue resting on his own inventive refuge, he had to grow up eventually, forcefully. He started to see his surroundings in a different way, no more leisure strolling late at night but instead, reading books of told stories about the ghost light he had terribly seen. The broken violin never been repaired but an old model of camera had been hanging on his neck since then.
Manuel became irritable and moody, serious and smugly. Never really understands the drastic change, some nearby folks thought the Snow Queen’s mirror had shattered again and drifted to Manuel’s eyes without his knowing during the appearing of the aurora. Folklore persists to survive even though the time itself tries to extinct them. Anyway, that was a different story to think about but Manuel’s story had just faded through the time as his some fellow kids had been.
Posted by emylane at 11:54 1 comments
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