The Enchanting Air Dances A Whispering Tune

The Artist

seems like only yesterday
thinking no one cared
nor wanted to share
my jailed feelings
my friend
more would miss
your words so deep
you see
it matters not
when I sleep
I'm not surprised
as the requests pour forth
and the reading goes on
into the night

~~~

he is an artist to me
painting with sparks
for all to see
enchantingly
lovingly
the brush dances
with colored marks
and strokes of ink
whispering another wink
of splattered wordy bytes

~~~

jumping
tell me your story
of death
life
sorrow
and love
i wonder
dear friend
what jar
shadowed hue
phrasing image
canvassed verse
contains your glory

~~~

will your pencil still stab
and twist
with underlying thoughts
colored clearly in pain
edged with hope of greatness

~~~

each jar over flows
rainbow secrets drip down the sides
with flashing ideas
spilling on a published page
mirrored images of a lonely sage
revealing life with his typewritten gold
daring to splash with hidden meaning
yet
on this earthy star
the song is heard
as he dives beneath his skin's desire
to touch the love of prose

~~~

the inky brush flairs
flowing
dripping
from the knowledge of light
embracing fame
or is there more
in the masterpiece
the sun holds with delight
framed in difference
highlighting the darkness
but spark dancing only his way
as blue-green eyes seek to find freedom
from himself
~~~

soft`rain
February 1997

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