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Arther Chellingworth Poem
Hung in antique shop its gilded frame, a naked pinned,
Empty canvas, stretched taunt, silent, awaiting pallets daub.
But no painters hand can fill this space to fill its void,
Only ink of the Poets Pen can free this imprisoned scene,
The brush has but seven colours only, to adorn this guilded frame
No wonder Kadinsky’s folded his two blank cards face down.
But the Poets Pen is not constrained as such, and births
Imaginations written line,
Where chance will command change, to set it’s future’s Scene.
Achel
Copyright © Arther Chellingworth | Year Posted 2016
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