The Wakening
Dawn the Sun
The sky to dress
With glowing star
Break eve’s darkness
How long ’tis since
This eastern canvas
Caught my gaze
With orange and brilliance?
Colors: purple,
Pink and blue
Painting westward
Brush has strewn
From the warmth,
My cover, leaves
Winter’s chill
Upon my cheek
Lifted high
And hidden now
In gloomy robe
And murky cloud
Soon lying down
Over ocean’s waves
’Til you announce
Tomorrow’s day
Not many more
Your dusks will bring
The wakening;
Beauty in Spring
Moonlight
The moon emits such pure silver light that you can taste it on your tongue. The frosty air coats your tongue and burns your lungs and you can cling to the solidness, the solemnity, and the stillness of the painted world around you. Breathe it in, taste it, and live forever in one moment. Grasses the color of night poke their slender bodies above the snow, bent over and sleeping, waiting for warmth and melting snow and crickets. A million stars gaze upon you as you gaze upon them, awestruck, in the darkness. You could lose yourself in eternity without the sound of your leather-clad feet making the frozen snow go skish skish skish as you stomp up the hill, walking the border of dark and light. envying the King of Silence who can glide across it on owl's wings without disturbing a single snowflake. It is cold and you are alone, but you are as much a part of this painting as the owl, the snow, the night, the moon, and the patient grass. You are a member of this eternal beauty.
The colours of life
The beauty it holds is nothing more than...
An amazing painting
Waiting ....
To escape with a burst of its full living breathing colour schemes & spectrums.
Worthy of being described by Shakespeare, Wordsworth or Dickens with inconceivable reverence.
Know then that this is only half the picture
For truth be told
If that is the sum of what the picture displays,
Imagine what sights would greet your weary eyes and refresh them beyond belief!
The majesty and splendour of the world is a blessed sight yet unseen.
The power of Music
Paper from wood. The maple-brown patterns on the walls swirl across the surface, the colors creating an abyss of pefection and creativity. My black ink pen draws lines and attaches characters along the way. The pen graces the paper, painting a canvas of music. The violins take their place at the top and the flutes acompany them. The violas and trumpets settle underneath while the saxaphones and cellos comfortably take their seat.
The pen takes a breathe as it eases it's way off of the paper. Then, without warning, quarter notes are instructed to the flutes and violins. They play a minor A scale creating an eerie presence throughout the vast room. It's as if the instruments come off the page and encompass the composer. As the treble instruments reach their peak and escalate in volume, the violas take charge playing a series of eighth notes speeding up the piece and stealing the light from the violins. The flutes don't back down creating a melodic harmony. A river flows as the trumpets join forces with the saxaphones and cellos creating this wave that crashes against rocks, this once peacefull piece now becoming a battle between wind and sea. The flute falls to a hum and the viola sinks behind the saxaphones as the trumpet gives it's most geaceful solo and guides the water around the rocks. The music creating an illusion of chaos meeting serenity. Beauty, true beauty portrayed in its rawest forms to grace the ears of those willing to listen.
Killed butterflies
The beauty in her eyes,
nothing but an awful disguise.
The color of the rise,
yellow crashes into red;
performs magical apricot skies.
These are the real highs,
hopefully never switching to goodbyes.
Hardly discharge the unique suppllies;
I am wondering if I am dead,
or if I am painting the truth of your lies?
Year Fled Beyond
The year fled beyond the horizon in a fast day.
Out went festive colors and in crept January gray.
I felt relief at the old gone and the new arrived.
But loathe to make resolutions so contrived,
I ponder the beauty of decisions delayed.
Dare to challenge oneself, but hold this truth dear
Balance joy with work and watch with eyes clear.
As artist soaks soul into painting with good cheer,
Judge not yourself as you embrace the new year.
