Daily Dispatch 9: The Painter.


I take a brush,
and paint,
in the red ink,
of your blood
the shadow,
of your face.

I get lost in the colours,
of your scent,
and I find myself,
among the stars,
forgetting all,
my earthly scars.

As I travel through,
this endless dream,
I travel through,
the galaxies.

I can hear my muse,
she’s calling me,
ready to wake me,
so it seems.

Beneath a cloud,
of rose red rain,
I paint the final piece,
with my brain.

And though it may be difficult for anyone,
to comprehend,
but this is how I had to,
paint the end.


This poem is part of the projectΒ Daily Dispatch.

About the poem:

There isn’t much to say about this, other than I simply took a blank page and let my imagination run freely and spill itself all over the paper. The goal for today was simply to write, so I wrote.
To write every single day is quite the challenge. It’s not finding the time to do so that’s posing as the challenge, it’s overcoming oneself and letting go of one’s ego. No one wants to write or even worse publish garbage. However sometimes, all we can come up with is nothing but garbage (at least that’s what we think) and often we decide to throw it away and turn it into actual garbage. What a waste!
There is no way of knowing, what kind of impact our “garbage” might have on others. Therefore, let’s not allow ourselves to be in our way. So, write and publish away and be surprised. And if it still turns out to be garbage after all, well, then at least we’ve tried.

See you soon,



Categories: Poetry, Show Your WorkTags: , , , ,


  1. This is really nice. Nice metaphors throwing imagery to the mind. Well done

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I probably would have used less punctuation, but I really like the images. I don’t know where you see garbage, but I see poetry πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

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