Water Colours

When I was little, I used to treat water colours like poster colours. As a result, I never quite appreciated them because they always felt like a weaker substitute for poster colours. But with increased exposure over the years, I know now that they are absolutely splendid if you know how to work with them.

The thing is, it's really hard. Blending colours on paper can be tricky. They dry quickly, so you have to work fast. You need to possess a very strong understanding of light and colour. There's a method to it: light shades first, darker shades later. One at a time. But quickly.
And if you mess something up, there's almost no way you can fix it except to start all over again.

Through the years, I've been struggling to make a half-decent water colour painting, and my latest attempt was a few weeks ago. I walked into the art room in school, and there was this lovely bunch of leaves in a pot in the centre of the room.

Those black smudges are supposed to be sparkly fairy dust. Or just sparkly dust. I mention that because they suddenly seem a little like flies.

It was very exciting, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to take another shot at a water colour painting.

But it wasn't to be. I sat there for what seemed like a really long time, trying to find a way to do justice to all the beautiful light on those leaves.

And a few failed attempts later...

So yeah, it's going to be a while before I can produce something reasonably satisfactory in watercolour. Until then, pens and doodles it is. Oh, and oil pastels. I'm really loving those lately.

The Final Sensitive Poem

I had to try all the beginning exercises once I started, and now that I have, you'll be happy to hear that I'm done writing sensitive poetry. Done for a while, at least. Even if I do write something like this in the near future, I won't put it up here. Or at least that's the plan.

Near the lonely knoll I weep

For all the secrets that I keep

Torment me when I try to sleep

And kill my imaginary sheep,

Thus keeping me awake all night

Clutching my pillow, filled with fright,

Doing the best I can to fight

The fear until the sky turns bright.

But daylight won’t forever stay,

And even if it could,

It wouldn’t help me chase away

The maggots in the hole

(That grows bigger with each new day)

Where used to be my soul.

The world just isn’t big enough

For someone like me to hide

The scathing pain and to act tough

When I'm crying inside.

I’ve tried my best to smile and laugh

While parts of me have died.

But now there’s no one else around

And you won’t hear a single sound

Unless maybe you strain your ears

To try and hear my silent tears,

Though that is something I think you

Will probably not care to do

For you are deaf without your phone

And I would rather be alone.

A few hours later I decide I’m done.

My eyes dry, I’m determined to have some fun.

Begone, ye feelings of dread and despair!

Secrets can spread. I’ve grown too cold to care.

I’ll start by climbing this green hill,

And I won’t stop climbing until

I reach the top covered with snow,

Where wild winds cold as my heart blow,

And then, from the highest point I know,

I’ll hurl insults at the world below.

Few days have passed since I did

What I’d set out to do,

And if you say it was stupid,

I might agree with you

For it felt truly wonderful,

But kind of pointless too

Because very few people heard

The things I had to say

And my soul and mind are still disturbed.

The pain won’t go away.

On the lonely cliff I loiter

For the final time

For I am slowly growing weary

Of making words rhyme.

But unless you write stuff like this,

You may never know

That emotions are hard to hide,

But much harder to show.

I step off the cliff edge a little too soon

Like they do in some kids’ cartoons.

Now I would like to point this out

Before everything goes black:

Unlike those cartoon characters,

I won’t be coming back.


Here are the ones that preceded this:
Sensitive poem 1
Sensitive poem 2
Sensitive poem 3