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From all her paints, she picked three shades of blue;

She wanted artwork where beauty was seen.

She splotched the paints, pursed her lips and then blew.

Her intent was to make a viewer awed;

She was sure they would perceive their own scene

And many would claim that it was all odd.

 

Art can begin with a method that’s odd.

In all colors, red, green and even blue.

An artist doesn’t always know the scene,

Only in their mind, it is clearly seen.

The creation often leaves many awed,

Paints across the canvas, air just blew.

 

Nature changes sights, winds hollered and blew,

Sights of immense beauty become quite odd.

It can leave an explorer feeling awed,

Always grateful for the sky, bright and blue.

So much creative beauty to be seen,

Allow intended abstracts in the scene.

 

Begin a new canvas without a scene,

Follow in the direction the wind blew.

Who knows when creativity is seen?

It could happen when everything feels odd,

Maybe in a color other than blue,

Something caught you and left you feeling awed.

 

It’s the beauty beyond that makes us awed,

Sometimes the simplicity in one scene.

The many shades and mixes with bright blue,

The different angles the artist blew.

One color on its own can appear odd,

Until the picture is complete and seen.

 

Be open to pictures artists want seen,

The many strokes layered will leave you awed.

The unity of completion is odd,

All intertwined into a single scene.

Who can guess where the inspiration blew?

An array of colors beyond just blue.

 

Who knows what’s seen in art and painted scenes?

Be prepared to be awed, as the winds blew

In a strong gust that feels odd and dark blue