Stephanie Goldman: I Am A Child

Stephanie Goldman: I Am A Child: I Am A Child I am a child,
 All the world waits for my coming.
 All the earth watches with interest
 To see what I shall become.
 The ...

At Death's Door

Bleed until you're left dry
Squeeze your life out of your soul
Feel every drop of the life-fluid
Out of your almost life-less pale skin.
The very feeling, the apparently 'precious' life,
is drifting far, far away, slipping away
from the tightly clenched fist, like the Sand
Memories of childhood, adolescence and Womanhood,
all come splashing, like a frost-bite.
Every vivid anecdote passes through the
chaotic lanes of the Mind Either sorrowful or Euphoric
or a lesson learned or brutal injustice.
Lives that have left a mark,
a bright flower, a peaceful Dove,
a lush forest, treating every 'sense'
Perhaps the mighty mountains
and sometimes the oblivious Oceans
vigorous with 'mobility' but reminiscently Romantic.
When it is Hope's suicide,
and Stringent principles once believed crash like a
pack of cards.
Every deception, betrayal, back-stab, does not
feel as excruciating as the sharp sting of pain being experienced.
Every 'person' etched in the 'heavy' bosom, now getting
empty by the minute, yet somehow getting heavier(lyrically).
Subtle and extravagant thoughts transform into fumes.
Even pain condenses into orgasmic pleasure!
All that remains is the debris.
The debris of a Life, that loved to Love
And all that matters is love felt and love given.
Finally Engulfed, into the pure, selfless, Love.

these images reflect the rural India, which is indeed the true India!

Hey people, i am posting few of my works, it is open to comments and suggestions. one request is that, i expect people not to be too critical about my paintings....

Hope you enjoy viewing it!

any details about the painting will be given based on comments.....

A Cold Heart On Fire!

I stand high right up to the sky,
My arms symbolize strength, that’s a lie!
Apparently happy and bold, virtual tranquility
Expressed in all ways, succeeding with great felicity!
Yes I’m bald without my beloved leaves, bosom frozen with cold blood,
My body sore with cynical glares, can you hear the silent flood?

I wear a stern countenance, an attitude voluptuously donned,
I swear they are ironical, not just worn for love to be loaned
There lies insecurities very deep inside, with unalloyed alacrity for love,
Waiting for a glance, a look, a touch, akin a single Dove
Superficiality of carnal pleasures, pure love undefined,
Loneliness so corrosive, company so confined
Profound my contemplation, with persistent confusion,
I ask lyrically, Life is Precious, an illusion?

I now wait for the season, when ripest is the Time,
My long lost love, my leaves, bringing to me warmth which is sublime!
When I shall be loved for what I am, not for what I should pose to be,
Not to sing a beautiful song a la melody, or to dress like a Princess for the world to see
But for my leaves, the apple of my eyes, subtly laid on my arms,
Just spelling loneliness, would raise doubts and alarms
History is fait accompli, future is not, please let them know they are invaluable,
Vivid memories starve me further, cannot their stay be perpetual?