Your lips, your eyes, your soul
Are like a work of art,
The most creative thing of all
Is your beautiful heart.
If you were a painting,
No colours could express
The beauty deep inside you,
A rainbow, nothing less.
If you were a sculpture
The clay could hardly make
Your figure of an angel
Without one mistake.
If you were a euphony
No choir could really sing
All the beautiful music
Your eyes could possibly bring.
So here I am, an artist,
With inspiration beyond belief
But to capture such rare beauty,
I'd have to be a thief..................
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
An Excuse to write.
"You write because you need to write, or because you hope someone will listen, or because writing will mend something broken inside you, or bring something back to life-" - Jay Makintoshwhy do I write? I need to write. such masks we wear, maybe in words, the magic and romance is not lost. where the art is not the words themselves, but the shadows conjured. shadows formed from edges outlined by a fire. a fire born from a string of images, whispers, secrets and words. within the confines of my cranium, words define the outside world. if it is true that a thing not said does not truly exist, then I wish to form my dreams in letters of black on white and sink into the magic.
..by Dipika (IIT Kgp)
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