Poems and Poetry

Painters and Paintings | A Poem by P.K. Deb

The paintings are to be kissed or spited,
used in embellishing the drawing room
or thrown in dustbin to injure the environment.
A sensitive painter is careful
in centralizing all of his
skills, experiences and virtues
on the top of his brush
and skillful to compel the clean canvas
to conceive a painting —
beautiful and useful too,
with each and every passionate touch of his brush on it.
Blood turns into hot sweat,
sheds on the stainless canvas
and a magnificent painting is born,
compelling claps, kisses, rewards and awards
to be generous to drop on it
from the blissful eyes and the perceived hearts.
Maybe, a bunch of blessings are also bestowed
By blissful and watchful aerial eyes
and a course of curses are booked
for those careless painters
who give their paintings just the beginning,
leaving the finishing to money and machine,
produce some so-called paintings —
lacking color and scent of humanity,
dump them in the slums of garbage
and pollute the cleanliness of the environment
where the stainless paintings are still gathering the blossoms
thrown gratefully by the blissful eyes and the peaceful hearts.


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