Miniature paintings
Paint is chipping, fainting
Museum slowly waiting
Brushes on canvases wading
Trees made of green and brown
Red and white in the figure of a clown
Smiling faces always tilted down
Oh yeah, they call it a frown
Luxurious decorated hallways
Paintings framed in all ways
Museum. Paintings. Doorways
You'll get lost in the corridors for days
Look left and right, what did you find
Colors in order, pleasing to your mind
Colorful disorder, senses grind
Being guided, too bad you're blind
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Poem Book
الشعرA literary tête-à-tête to help myself get by. You will find both poem and prose in this public diary of thought and representation, but a cliché name never hurts anyone.
