I am a simple painter, though I do not feel as such;
I see things no one else can see, that no one else can touch.
The crinkle, crinkle of dry leaves evokes a satin grey;
The sunlight on my skin tastes like an exceptional sirloin filet.
When music plays, I see the scenes that write out just for me:
The cello’s rich hum is sticky sap, an amber filigree;
A clarinet can conjure smells of lovely cinnamon toast,
While a cryptic triangle reminds me of a ball hitting a goalpost.
A wild violet sky erupts as a tuba gives a blahhht
And a smooth glass window is a grand piano’s coup d’etat.
Round and round the instruments go, kicking up whirlwinds
That transfers to my humble brush, from which the art rescinds
To the blank canvas on my easel. Oh, what a beautiful sight!
But art is not enough to feed me or keep me warm at night.
I am a simple painter, though I do not feel as such;
I see things no one else can see, that no one else can touch.
Savannah Carmichael is a sophomore Creative Writing major at Truman State University. Previously she was given a Dishonorable Mention in the 2020 Bulwer-Lytton contest. In her free time, she enjoys acting and being scared senseless by a good piece of horror.