the greatest poem
lies in front of you
as an empty page

the greatest song
lies in your voice
as a pregnant silence

the greatest artwork
lies in your hands
as a latent talent

the greatest day
lies in your waking
as a potent dawn

the greatest life
lies in you
as a human being

the blank page
scratched and scarred
by the pencil

the sharp pencil
sacrificing itself
to the page

the written page
does not feel tarnished
by the pencil’s residue

the dull pencil
does not feel diminished
by the loss of graphite

both page and pencil
when disfigured and destroyed
fulfill their potential

even
the
main
character
of
my
own
story
?

She's in a
self imposed cage.
I can see it in
her eyes;
a demon's hell-fire.
She loathes humanity,
especially men.
Anyone can blame
past circumstances for
how they are currently,
but ultimately,
love unlocks the
door to the
prison of hate.

Poetry
Consider it / Art
Upon a different kind of canvas.
Paint colorful the words
That weep brushstrokes
A masterpiece of true blue

Fool, let your words flow
Your virtual canvas imbued
With learned mind aglow.
A light tower on the Hill
Picturesque poems
Low and On the down
Low and behold
The rhyme of stone willed.
Still Art / life / on canvas
Of a different kind...
Paint colorful the words.

Yours is a tapestry.
Grapes ripe on the vine.
Be the Art
flowing like wines,
Drowning in the emotions.
Oh poetry.

Never cease the heart
Live loud your Love
an act & the Art.
You are
Poetry.

a moment, a slice, a flash
Oh the mind! mind has uncountable layers
deeps and depths unfathomed!
Mountains to fall from
one small trip and you are gone!