You're the artist with the pen,
the painter with the brush,
the designer with the colour swatches.
You interpret your dreams,
give rise to your ambition,
create your ideal future.
Your vision crystallizes at will,
draws upon your imagination
to materialize your surroundings.
There may be times of ugliness
when the world seems dark and
intent on dragging you down.
Remember this too shall pass,
renew your closeness with nature
and replenish that innate beauty and joy.
It's madness sometimes
And maybe regret
It's soothing and calm
Sometimes
It's days since they last slept
You can escape from anything in this world
But not from your thoughts
You can't escape from your mind
It's prison
Coated as something divine.
So the inkpot is never idle
And the canvas never white
It's one thing after another
We are never proud
Art could always be better
Alexa and Andrew the amazing artists asking awesome apples ...
Is a terrible idea
Paintings unsold
children unfed
emotions ignored
storied unread.
Hearts on the sword
wars cloaked in red
purple-hearted pope
the artist is dead.
picture perfect
you are
and your photography
you captured me
literally
picturesque
artistry
all I have of you
is this photograph
memories
engraved in my mind
I've written you deep into the complexities of my mind
permanently, writing
poetry
I've captured your love (with my love for words and phrases)
and your grace
(I mean I catch your grace through my eyes)
this picture, this story
the glimpses
is so much more
it's deeper than
- long-suffering
- long-lasting
I long to see the world through your beautiful brown eyes
you captured me
Shape shifters come in all shape and form.
Politicians are naturals of course
Smiling and promising one thing
Then delivering quite another.
Then there are con artists and scammers
Taking advantage of the naive
And innocent at least if only once.
Then there’s those like my neighbor
Who’s nothing more than a welfare rancher
Taking funds from a do-gooder land trust NGO
Ostensively to keep his lands whole.
Appearing on the outside a good old boy
But really just another scamming thief
Feeling entitled to whatever he can take
Such as a small sliver of my land
For some reason fenced inaccurately long ago.
In this particular case the law isn’t on his side
But that doesn’t matter
In his desire to be right,
Uphold the bizarre tradition of adverse possession
And bully his way to some who knows what end
To who knows whose advantage.
The thing about shape shifters is just that,
They shift and change
So can only be trusted to be untrustworthy.
It’s good to know though
Caveat emptor
They can be anywhere, and dangerous
Especially when least expected.
(11/14/25)
Poets,
Scribbling soulmates, yet
Artists.
THE ARTIST’S WAY*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*You can write into the air.
You can speak upon a page.
A painting can be a novel.
A story can paint the perfect picture.
Dance can express deep emotion.
Emotions can stir deep movements with a chance observer.
We dream in deep metaphors and visual puns.
We weave them into stories that speak to our very souls.
Artists tell those stories with or without words.
That is the artist’s way.
*Note: Poem originally written for Pen Women Magazine, a publication for the members of the National League of American Pen Women (NLAPW) 9/27/23. (nlapw.org/2023/09/27/featured-poem-the-artists-way).
*Some words abstracted from descriptionari.com
For sparks of joy to which our hearts have hold,
Like fireflies which the flows of time ignore,
And soon forgot, the moment we are cold,
The artist said, "Of this, I shall know more."
For vast unkindness which shall often come,
For not of justice is life's vessel full,
Which those afflicted would of it be numb,
The artist said, "I'll wear this on my soul."
For all the dreams of what the world might be,
The flowers of hope and industry we sow,
And little know what sun or snow they'll see,
The artist said, "This garden shall I grow."
The beauty, and the burden, artists bear,
Is that, for all of life, their hearts must care.
repetitive art
monets leitmotiv was trees
van gogh was swirls
We poets, writers, misfits of the world
like artist or mystics or troubadours
use our gifts to give insight to others
we offer more pulling back the covers.
We did not fit in with most of our peers.
When young we were often taunted to tears.
We often were quiet in our own zone.
And most of the time you’d find us alone.
We’re awkwardly honest most of the time.
Our minds think rhythmically also in rhyme.
Counting syllables can be frustrating.
Keep the lines in each verse relating.
Through each medium the end is the same.
Sharing our thoughts is the name of the game.
Montreal is my favourite city ~ a mix of old and new.
I love its architecture which graces it with style and unique character.
It's got more than its share of cathedrals, pubs and restaurants.
It boasts a vibrant mingling of local and exotic culture.
Well known to be the hub of exquisite cuisine and fine dining.
Montreal gathers artists into a most vivacious symbiotic community.
Best of all ~ summertime offers its kaleidoscope of musical festivals.
So make a point of visiting this city that is big on charm !
Let Montreal lure you, captivate you and seduce you ~
AP: 2nd place 2025
Artists complain they’re forever starving
~ yet prefer wood to roast for carving
artists create art
to express inner feelings
loving aesthetics
Artists are inborn and probably
Reincarnated from a past life
And their artistry talent gifted naturally
That's why their artistic talent
Are indescribable, unexplainable
And never cease to amaze many
Just like any child prodigy
Musicians too which is slotted
In the art category, they're awfully
Geniusly talented and gifted to the core.
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