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A "Skrewball poem" , or in short "a Skrew" , is a poem with short lines and multiple rhyming or repeated words, often wi...

Saturday, 20 June 2026

Painting

I loved that painting so much,

Wanting to reach out so much to touch.

The colours were so rich, I was in love,

Just staring at it gave me a rush.


I wanted to be in it, so real to view,

Wished I could be a character it knew.

The colours leaked from the canvas as if new,

Dripping colours, bright reds, violets, and blue.


The characters so clear I was immersed,

People were so alive, we conversed.

I was inside the painting, my mind was burst,

A character wishing for reality like thirst.


I loved that painting so much,

I was sucked into it, immediately on touch.

I looked back into a crowd in a bunch,

And saw people stare at me, silent in hush.


At first I didn't see the big deal, 

People staring at me, eyes frozen cold steel.

But now I was in this painting for real,

Forever hanging on the wall, for visitors to feel.



© 2026 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

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