Monday, March 14, 2016

The Shades and the Brush

Packed was I in a small crystal clear bottle, I was its identity
The blue bottle, the red one or the green goblet
Though when around you all time, I am not given fame
My fame comes with my name
But where is my name?

The flower is adored for its vibrant delicacy
The pretty butterfly for its colorful flutter
The sky for its iridescent ambit
The rainbow for its seven 'me'
Sometimes I wonder if it's me
Or the bodies carrying me
Who is adored more ?
Fuddles me to the core !

One day sitting inside a tiny tube
I was resting inside the dark lube
Suddenly someone pressed me
Scuffled me
Strangled me
Tussled I, came out with a heavy breath
Breathing freely I was at ease
A slender stick with soft fiber
fondled me
A little shy I was at such an endearing gesture
Coaxing me gently
I felt the quiver
I mingled in him in a trice
like the way you gulp a mango slice

No longer I was me, captivated in a color tube
here I was free and liberated
with the slender brush
Oh sorry! a colorful brush
embarked on an advent to a majestic portrait
I was now a colored brush brushing along the shades of me
on a white canvas 
leaving behind my indelible imprints.



  1. Life story of colors; poets imagine anything :D

  2. I really appreciate your professional approach. These are pieces of very useful information that will be of great use for me in future.


Don't leave before leaving your words here. I will count on your imprints in my blogspace. :)