Heart Art:


Like a white sheet,
Untainted,
Whole,
Innocent.
Life begins,
Only to be splattered by
Reds
Of love
Blacks
Of sins
Greens
Of life
Yellows
Of happiness
And blues
Of sorrow
Until a work of art is formed
Then the heart is broken in half
Once
Twice
Even three times.
Until he comes again
Fixes it
And paints
Reds
Reds
And more reds.
Reds of love.

Years pass by
Until the art is no longer wanted
Or it is destroyed
By the process of Time.

Like life,
The art has to die.
And so it does.


I'm thinking of entering this into a poetry comp. What do you think?

OBK