The Painter’s Privilege (Poetry Challenge: Self Portrait)

I see the beauty of the world

through hazel brown eyes

my lips speak the truth

at times in relative terms

my nose knows the foul smell

of dishonest statements, and

my ears frequently catch

whispers in many lingoes.

The narrator’s license.


My heart knows the pain

of the those not in peace

I sense, albeit faintly at times

the higher vibrations of love

my feet walk the crooked path

of continuous learning, and

my hands try, desperately

to paint a portrait of my soul.

The painter’s privilege.


  This is a poem I originally wrote in response to the poetry challenge: Self Portrait now going on at