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.”