I fail <br />whenever I want to paint <br />a poem <br />about you <br />your beauty and <br />my love <br /> <br />If I want to write about <br />your eyes, your eyes - <br />oh they are bows, <br />perhaps rainbows. <br />They just fill my heart with colors <br />and I feel blue in loneliness. <br /> <br />If I want to write about <br />Your lips <br />Their curves and color gives <br />me a crooked thought <br />How sweet the fruit would taste <br />I get straight <br /> <br /> <br />If I want to write about <br />your bosoms, <br />their promptness <br />makes me blush, <br />that I even forget what I am <br />about to brush. <br /> <br /> <br />If I want to write about <br />your stomach <br />My wandering across that soft plain <br />ends abrupt and the burrow <br />takes me to your womb, <br />where your warmth <br />keeps me sleeping <br />ever and ever. <br /> <br /> <br />If I want to write about <br />your legs - <br />Those pillars of beauty <br />grow and grow <br />like a beanstalk, <br />I can never climb. <br />I sacrifice myself for their grace <br />at the altars – at your feet. <br /> <br /> <br />As every dot of ink my pen marks <br />radiates all over the sinless paper <br />and violets of passion blossom <br />all over, all over <br />I go empty. <br />So whenever <br />whenever I want to paint <br />a poem about you - <br />I fail.<br /><br />Putholi Arumugham T<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/viola-why-poems-fail-me/
