a labyrinth of sorts

White before me, black in my hand,
My mind is home to c o l o u r;
I’m sitting on a chair,
but my thoughts are sprinting
everything is a hopeless
b l u r.

A labyrinth of sorts,
my mind craves directions.

 

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how to write pretty poetry

“dearly beloved,

to know

how to write pretty poetry,

all you got to do is

l e a r n.”

s t e p  o n e : feel

the paint brush is your only tool,

take it out from the place

you haven’t been to in years,

dust it off

& f e e l  the bristles

tickle

your

fingertips

s t e p  t w o : prepare

dip it in y e l l o w, 

in r e d,

in g r e e n,

& in b l u e;

let the tip of the brush caress the water,

gently, enough to license

the  r i p p l e s

to appear

s t e p  t h r e e : touch

b l a n k  sheet before you,

as opposed to

your c o l o u r f u l mind;

let the brush

k i s s  the canvas

confidently

but s l o w l y

& let your emotions  e x p l o d e

“dearly beloved,

to know

how to write pretty poetry,

all you got to do is

l e a r n

   p a i n t.”

Paint