For my batch of 2013  --- FAREWELL POEM

                                                              

                                                 THE PAINTING

It was the year 2013 an inner voice said to me, come on, wake up and follow your dream.

Do not hold it, be an artist, a voice from with in did scream.

I stretched my canvas and looked at it with eyes so wide,

My mind blank, holding my brush and easel I wondered who would be my guide.

Art is something you cannot learn the voice said,

Pick up your brush, dip it in colours and to the right path you will head.

Where do I find colours, there is no hue,

The voice said, look around there is vibrancy all around you.

Oh, how did I miss it, on my palette right here is colour blue.

Calm and peaceful the colour of the sky,

Slowly taking a step and everyday rising high.

This colour many a times on my palette was lonely and blue.

One day green got together with blue and on my canvas, master strokes they drew.

 Green was Umaid and blue Damian, together a colour they created for me.

The hue was balanced, peaceful, flowing free.

I dabbed my brush in colour red,

Annika and Lakshmie on my canvas passionate views and ideas they did spread.

A splash of turquoise I wanted to paint,

Harshiet, Avya and Ahaan with their clarity of mind held my hand like a saint.

Beautiful pictures I started to draw,

Slowly all around me vibrant colours I saw.

 Three doves, Aadya, Aanya and Unnaty, flew and perched on my palette,

Pure and white while I painted they sang a melodious ballad.

To be an artist I need to be creative,

Colour purple, the colour of imagination, made my canvas look so festive.

Amar, Aaditya and Aarna showed me the way,

My canvas, so pure and pious, no less than a bouquet.

A painting without love is undone,

Dash of pink from Saina, Kyra and Sahana, accolades, my canvas had won.

A blob of orange makes my painting more vibrant and bright,

Atharv, Komal, Alok, optimistic, advice me to widen my horizon, way beyond my sight.

The colour of success, gold dust, I sprinkle on my painting,

Rivan, Sumit, Ananya, stars, finally my painting is attaining.

My art takes me beyond the canvas to the potter’s wheel,

A lump of clay from the earth I did steal.

Dev Vart, Harshit, Vansh, Pradeep, helped me mould the earth brown clay into a sculpture,

Vast, bottomless, no boundaries it did not follow any scripture.

Finally my canvas needed that final touch, the dot the connecting line,

Deprived of creativity, I could not do it so fine,

Master artists, Vyaan, Serat, Tejas, lend me their strokes,

Finally, the masterpiece called 1D, evokes……..

A painting that continues.