Tuesday, May 28, 2019

Art

I wish I was an artist
So the words like glassy dew
Would fall from my lips
They would swirl and spiral
In their descent to earth
Touching the blood red poppy
And arriving like pearls
on a wine colored rose

An artist can take passion
and spin it into gold
A net of glistening power
The ember that sits on my chest
And orange coal bites at my throat
Waiting forever encased in
a robe of purest white

An artist could sort out
Turquoise and scarlet contrasts
Confusion, contradictions
Never dissecting the entanglement
or parsing spidery silken threads
But accepting and caressing
Til elucidating the weave

The artist in my mind
feels more than it sees
The velvet kiss of a wildflower's lips
and warm embrace of the sun after rain
and trapped, these emotions
Run fiery venom through her veins
Til they extinguish in my heart

I wish I were an artist
So the views I see
Of heavenly lilac and muted blush
Bronze casting of strength
Roaring waters of pride
Just waiting in my fingertips
For a place of release
When they can relax
into reliable existence
Would fear no more
for the flightiness of their candle

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