Produce

The dying breath of a cold wind
Painted by the artist, on a long
Summer day.

It wasn’t right.
Where was the grey,
And a tinge of white, in the curls of air?

It didn’t sell,
Obviously.

Repeat.

Painted on a humid evening,
This time, the cold was
An evidence of the detailed snow.

No buyer,
Yet.

Creation and Criticism;
An argument that didn’t matter;
A chilling sense of inadequacy;
Cold.
An inspiration?

Strokes of two horse-hair brushes,
A riot of shades,
A success.

A cheque
Deposited the next day.

Painting? Sold.
The night? – got colder.

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One Comment Add yours

  1. Ranjita Majumder says:

    May be quite hard for me to understand , but according to my opinion , the morone tones of the pallete cannot bring peace or as here coolnes to mankind , but even in the coldest nights ,the vibrant colours can seek relief to the sadness and light the passion of their hearts which can glow on for the coming wintry days of the Winter.

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