Art

The Fallen

Summer love leads to fall.
Autumnal changes effects all.
Leaves turn, soon to drop.
Life moves on and won’t stop.
.
Chills felt to the bone.
Warmth’s gone when alone.
Seasons cycle as they must.
Tomorrows come, we have to trust.
.
Truth felt in the heart.
Minds make lies art.
Sleep’s unknown for many a night.
Sadness fills each line I write.
.
If not loved a future is to find.
If not a poet, perhaps then blind.
Hues created we want to see.
Now the fall’s here for you and me.

~*~
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Seeing the Light

Shades of perfection –
a pause for reflection.
Softness felt on shapely curves,
a goddess of light, calming nerves.
~
Time stands still shaped in stone.
A memory forged, never alone.
Shadows illuminate visions anew.
Shades of perfection – as are you!

~*~
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Special thanks to the unknown photographer and inspirational model 🙂

Persistent

In this time of “writer’s block”,
I stare blankly at paper and clock.
With jumbled prose I try to think,
should life be guided by pen and ink?
~
Does a rhyme decide a story’s path?
Can a re-verse save us from the wrath?
The day is young; there are things to do,
but the sky’s gray with a snowy hue.
~
The air is cold, I’ll assume,
my spirit’s locked within a room.
Doors will open if I choose.
When all’s lost there’s none to lose.
~
Persistence colors the choices we make.
Is persistence for persistence sake?
Do we persist simply to win?
If direction’s unclear should we begin?
~
Like life, love, thought and art,
questions unanswered are the start.
Life ticks forward with us or without.
Thoughts will be shared without a doubt.
~
Art will be made with all the thoughts had.
And love makes life happy but also sad.
Dilemma’s obscure visions true.
A vision obscures my dilemma new.
~
I’m seeking an end to what’s now fraught.
The past’s the lesson of what’s been taught.
And like life, love, thought and art,
ends shade poetic an open heart.

~*~
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Doin’

I feel a storm a brewin’
And thoughts, they are a stewin’
Seems procrastination ain’t so great
Time it seems just won’t wait
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Youthful dreamin’ put on hold
Earnin’s first, I’ve been told
While the future does still beckon
It’s path though I’ve yet to reckon
~
But my guitar needs a playin’
And my hips need a swayin’
My pencil needs more dancin’
And of course there’s more romancin’
~
So much to do, so little time left to waste
Ponderin’s ahead, no need for haste
I am after all a master procrastinator
So I’ll get old, but just a little bit later

~*~
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Bountiful Blossoms Blooming

Where bumble bees sing to morning blooms,
sunshine fills sleepy rooms.
Little birds chirp to ring in the day.
The town folk thrive and children play.
~
Evening’s all spent cozy and warm;
everyone huddles at word of a storm.
With a common goal of tranquility,
their smiles all share the harmony.
~
Freedom reigns and peace assured,
caring for all, we’re all adored.
And though this place is yet to be found,
in dreams we meet when feet leave the ground.

~*~
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A Stroke of Time

In this instant our day’s to start.
The sun rises with imagination’s art.
Canvases unfurl forever changing.
Changes unfurl with minds raging.

Heads spin to lust and learn.
And the ageless age with every turn.
It’s time itself telling time.
By degree our world’s a chime.

A brushes stroke and all’s made right.
Then our sun will rise on another’s night.

~*~
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My Masterpiece

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I feel a masterpiece is on the way.
But don’t look now, it’s not today.
I’ll write it all in a lyrical rhyme.
I’ll write of joy and precious time.
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I’ll write of life and of love.
I’ll write of stars that shine above.
I’ll write of places that we’ve seen.
And the quiet times in between.
.
We’ve delightful dinners with lovely views,
and our times together with no shoes.
I’ll write of walks in the sand.
I’ll write of sunsets hand in hand.
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I feel this masterpiece is well underway.
I feel it growing every day.
Now volumes I’ll write of loving you.
With a lifetime ahead before it’s through.

~*~
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Wows

With these strings, I thee bled,
fingers raw and eyes red.
Sounds of the day fill my head.
Emotion speaks with words unsaid.
~
With six strings I am fed.
Good vibration is my med.
Tension’s tuned and compression shed.
Harmony pledged. To honor bred.
~
With my strings I have wed.
Our ties bound by common thread.
Sweet melodies or what’s instead?
I’ll have and hold till I’m dead.

~*~
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Gurmumble

His name was Gurmumble,
or so it was said.
Gurmumble’s the sound,
comes out of his head.
~
Ask him a question,
anything you choose.
Gurmumble, he’d answer,
looking down at his shoes.
~
Gurmumble was teased,
folks called him a freak.
But he’s actually, quite normal,
he just couldn’t speak.
~
High School was soon starting,
Gurmumble was rightly scared.
The building was enormous,
much bigger than he feared.
~
His first week was horrible,
he’s a target to be teased.
Gurmumble was unfazed,
the bullies left displeased.
~
Come fall his novelty waned,
Gurmumble was now free.
Excelling at his studies,
he had a learning spree.
~
By Spring Gurmumble’s smitten,
but he couldn’t say a word.
So, he wrote his crush a poem,
the prettiest she’d ever heard.
~
He wrote her a poem each day,
awaiting her response.
And when she finally smiled,
it was Gurmumble’s Renaissance.
~
All the girls were swooning;
the boys were just confused.
Gurmumble’s now a star,
no longer feeling abused.
~
His poems now sung as songs,
Gurmumble plays guitar.
His loving girlfriend sings,
I’m sure they’re going far.

~*~
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Monumental Moments

Through willow filtered sunshine,
I feel your reflections and you mine.
With introversion my biggest fear,
with hidden face my love I declare.
~
In glistening pools of gentle light,
my heart waves to the mind’s fright.
If lives written our columns divide,
moments unmirrored to cast aside.
~
Hands ever closer the time does drift,
the moon creates our daily shift.
In the dark our eyes meet,
together enlightened tomorrows we’ll greet.

~*~
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Selfscape

~

On a canvas of life we paint every day.

Some burst with color, some dull and gray.

Each stroke has consequence, broad or precise,

all mediums large though most will suffice.

~

Hue’s all made one from another.

Texture’s built on a base we smother.

Shadows lurk in black and white.

Brilliant moons portray the night.

~

Love is felt on glowing skin

Hate pours from the blood within.

Seas of green churn, gallant ships tossed.

Crews-o-many flounder, all forever lost.

~

Happiness’s awash in the bright blue sky.

Sadness gives it time to dry.

Realism reflects an instant in mind.

Abstract’s more real when meaning you find.

~

Yet in two dimensions we do all conform.

Our edges and corners define the norm.

Then we sign, frame and place on a wall.

There hung with the others, all very small.

~*~

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New Old Fashion

After years and years of ups and downs,
when value of self’s been pennies on the pound,
love’s been vaulted and disappeared,
old friends lost and new to be found.
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The body waivers and minds forget.
Wisdom comes and goes in equal ration.
Time’s rushed but waiting improves.
And all’s well when life has passion.

~*~
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Life’s a Beach

Simple words writ in sand

Sculpted with a simple hand

Words of meaning I can’t hide

Yet disappear in the changing tide

 ~

Time takes all that we need

Gives anew to thus be freed

And toil we must to hold our ground

While standing straight on a world that’s round

 ~

By day, by night we return to see

Miles for shore await you and me

We’ll mold our lives in these sands

We’ll rewrite “I love you”, holding hands

 ~*~

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Adds Up

The more we’re together the less the world’s a part.
Our passion’s indulged with music, poetry and art.
In a time of violence and of greed,
the love of each other’s all we need.
~
With arms meant to reach and to hold,
the wonder of love’s boldly told.
Lives intertwined becoming one,
endless adventures have begun.
~
With zest, zeal and sex appeal;
smiles always shared, always real.
Equal devotion adding to the feel,
all’s mutually beneficial, the deal ideal

~*~
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Springling

Baby’s first spring blooms with joy.
There’s grass for sitting and nature’s their toy.
There are leaves to touch and bugs to see,
flowers to smell and the buzz of a bee.
~
The sun is warm and the sky is blue.
A breeze tickles toes where once a shoe.
Daring they get and start to crawl.
They chase the cat chasing the ball.
~
Mom gets it first and giggles they share.
She tosses the ball high in the air.
Little eyes get rubbed, its naptime soon.
Then there’s lunch on a spring afternoon.

~*~
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WAKE UP!

I woke up this morning. WOW!
Realizing then that when is now.
Plans were made, now they’re done.
Twenty plus years, most were fun.
~
Knowledge, experience, often joy,
the world of art was my toy.
Objects of yore floated my way.
Yes, no or maybe is all that I’d say.
~
The good stuff was mine to freely explore.
I’d do my magic and ask for more.
All was good then a new owner came.
AI is here and nothing’s the same.
~
Most often it’s wrong, sometimes it lies.
It can’t see age or brush strokes in eyes.
Partial signatures’ will blow its mind.
So, no dollars there for it to find.
~
It only recalls and cannot deduce.
The language is wrong and always obtuse.
Those not knowing think it’s a no-brainer.
But people who do need no disclaimer.

~*~
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Splash

Day to dusk and dusk to night,
night to dawn and a new day’s light.
Time as life cycles in a spectrum of hues.
Frequencies frequently dulled by blues.
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Every second a shade setting a tone,
rainbows intensify when not alone.
Clouds engulf or stars shine,
wheels tint our chosen line.
~
Years may fly while hardships creep,
troubles fade when dreams we keep.
Brush aside the grays in a timely fashion;
pull pastels into a daily ration.
~
Day to dusk and dusk to night,
night to dawn and a new day’s light.
Alarms will sound and snoozes ensue.
The palette new, what color are you?

~*~
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If 2 Be

If to live a life of fantasy,
immortality bound and trouble free.
Never to be a wannabe,
desires fulfilled by decree.
What would they be, Oh what would they be?
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To be an explorer on the open sea,
nature bound and living free,
the entire world I would see.
I’d fulfill life’s destiny.
Where would it be, where would it be?
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An artist perhaps, filling the world with glee,
history bound and creating free,
painting for all a new reality.
Or I’ll write a song with perfect harmony.
How will it be, how will it be?
~
Maybe a billionaire on a shopping spree,
luxury bound and spending free,
rolling about with bling and scree.
Or I’d give it all away to charity.
What would it be, what would it be?
~
A philosopher would be great, solving life’s mystery,
intellectually bound and thinking free,
cleaning up mankind’s debris.
And debate all who disagree.
When will it be, when will it be?
~
But I’m not, I’m just me,
homeward bound and mostly free,
curious of complexity.
Loving and loved I guarantee.
Who could it be, who could it be, it’s you and me!

~*~
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