We would be but mere blank canvasses
Stark and white in framed incarceration
Those that come to us in moonlit serenade
Those that become the sun's glimmer in our hearts
That become at times the clouds of disdain
Are like the the bristles of the painters brush
Individually leaving their mark
Creating human masterpieces
Of love and loss and new found ideals and dreams
In that if such things never occurred
We would be but mere blank canvasses
Stark and white in framed incarceration
________________________________________
Poetry by W. Burkholder
Read 528 times
Written on 2007-03-01 at 14:55
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Stark and white in framed incarceration
Painter's Brush
Those that come to us in moonlit serenade
Those that become the sun's glimmer in our hearts
That become at times the clouds of disdain
Are like the the bristles of the painters brush
Individually leaving their mark
Creating human masterpieces
Of love and loss and new found ideals and dreams
In that if such things never occurred
We would be but mere blank canvasses
Stark and white in framed incarceration
________________________________________
Poetry by W. Burkholder
Read 528 times
Written on 2007-03-01 at 14:55
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Callisto Jean |
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