Friday, October 31, 2008


Paints and colors splashing on

With every stroke of brush
Foretelling a story.
As the blank projector opens its heart
For the curves and crunches
Of the characters,
That gets to life
There, stands still,
The Canvas

For the applauding hands
And the admiring eyes,
For the piece of art
As for the creator
Projecting the strings of emotions
With waves of colors,
That the appreciating audience sees…
There stands still,
The Canvas

Sometimes, for a lost love,
Throwing the grief in every portrait.
Sometimes, for a dreamer
Recreating magic of fantasies,
As he fancies his art.
Sometimes, the nature lover,
Portraying the beauty of this world.
But, with every changing brush
And with every different story,
There stands still,
The Canvas.

Wondering alone,
As it thinks about its existence,
It smiles to the
Ecstatic eyes for the
Cindering creation,
As who gets the glory,
For the sparkling art.
But, if someone remembers,
There stands still,
The Canvas

Tanya Ghosh
Copyright ©2007 Tanya Ghosh

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