Give Me Blank Pages

Artistry created with a hand comes in so many forms I'm not always able to conform to considered norms I've used #2 pencils when it was suggested I use a #4 Then again, I don't always do things to keep score I've used crayons on pages while coloring with a child, often traveling outside the lines on purpose, a bit wild, but that's the rebellious side of me that I tend to condone for I'm not one to be commanded like an airborne drone I don't respond to lectures that try to confine my style Establishing my own borders... blueprints not kept on file The designs I'd used in poems and paintings, heretofore are never repeated in new creations. That would be a bore I write outside the margins and scratch words out with a pen but on the keyboard, it's much easier to delete and then send them to keep with pictures I'd consider painting in the future I continually edit poetry and repaint scenes that need a suture I'm open to the boundless beauty that nature holds in store All anyone needs is the willingness to wander about and explore I find incentive in spider webs before sunlight dries the dew, and in prisms of wondrous things open-minded vision can accrue Give me blank pages, stretched canvases, pen, paint and brush Music brings out the artist within me, and I am never in a rush to finish a poem being born, or a lighthouse I'm drawing on a cliff but I am easily distracted by baking cookies with just one whiff