Rainbow wax glides over bleached trees.
Busy hands move left and right,
up and down.
Pay no attention to lines now,
movement breathes reason.
Color keeps a body calm.
Taste the sweetness
of candy apple red.
Hear the roar of steamboat engine black.
Smell the shades of citrus.
White disappears.  He does not see me
watch
mesmerized
thankful for the tripod grip.

I'm on a tear tonight, and why not, eh?


              Oh, January!

This poem hits my core feeling with a dark clear intent from the author. Watching another.. the watched having no idea.. Very disturbing, and delightful. The image of your steady tripod and steady eye is.. oh my.. creepy in its amazing choice of words and placement. All in all, I am (as I write) smiling on this gem poem. More please. Thank you for sharing such a chilling skillful piece. I'll be unable to count how many times I will dip into this.

All the best friend.

                   -Jason

good work.i found this inspiring all the way to the end..

Where does white go when it disappears? what is left when white is gone? Though provoking line as well as the taste, sound and smell of colors (although citrus is not exactly a colour with shades lemon?).

Oh, I love the sensory poems!

I enjoyed reading this because I like the idea of watching a painter through an ipod. And I love how you bring colors to life by making us 'sense' them through the senses.
" Taste the sweetness
of candy apple red.
Hear the roar of steamboat engine black.
Smell the shades of citrus. "

Two little nits. I'd rearrange the lines here:
White disappears.  He does not see me
watch
mesmerized -- I think "watch" can share the line above it.

And, I'd specify a citrus. An orange, or lemon, or tangerine, whatever. The specificity will make the image pop, I think.

I like this. The narrator is taken by the sensory delights of what she experiences. Tripods come in handy don't they!