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Each person is an artist,
Of song, of paint, of word,
But nothing can compare,
To an artist; undeterred.
The sheer juxtaposition,
The paintbrush in fifth gear,
One sweep across the canvas,
A masterpiece is near.
His palette tells a story,
Of when, and why and who.
A final flick of azure,
To me it’s just called blue.
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Writer Profile
Lou Chaps
I am usually seen writing comical, eccentric poems about the most bizarre of forms. From Fruit to School Teachers, from Tragedy to plain truth. Enjoy my poetry, laugh at my eccentricity.
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