~
Poet’s pen words as painters paint hues,
each exploring infinite shades of the blues.
Whether a canvas large or ragged scrap small,
quills and brushes cover them all.
.
Syllables shade the sentence with shadow,
of portraits deep and seascapes shallow.
While watercolors will always wash away,
ink and oils shimmer for another day.
.
Surreal or real really anything goes,
whether rhyming verse, freeform or prose.
Maybe some Shakespeare or dogs playing cards,
velvet backs drape to both blind and bards.
.
Ropes of velvet secure master pieces.
A sandwich of glass will smooth out the creases.
Though nothing’s smooth in a perfect sense,
waves perpetually bristle from light to dense.
.
Mirrors project light already seen.
Reflection occurs on the matted screen.
Largeness lingers, all mediums fade,
little’s lost when something is made.
.
What’s unmade forever unknown,
forever unseen and can never be grown.
Whatever’s not lost will be our gains.
And when tears dry an image remains.
~*~
Sck022116
rhymesalot 