Thursday, August 25, 2011

The Poet

He sits with his
blue thumb
pressed to his forehead.

Those smudges of ink
are residue
from the act of creation.

Like dried clay
in a sculptor’s hand
once the wheel has stopped spinning.

5 comments:

Sheelonee Mukherjee said...

beautiful..

Parth said...

@Sheelonee: Thanks much!

Anonymous said...

Unfortunately, the digital age leaves no such traces :(

Parth said...

@Anon: Takes the romance out of the image, doesn't it?

Web Design Gold Coast said...

Too short to be true.......A good read though it was over before I know it.....Ellaboration required, although this is art and you are an artist and who am i to judge...cheerio matey!!