Through then eyes of a poet
Posted: October 19th, 2014, 11:45 pm
Many people look at a painting and see just a painting; when I look at a painting I see a world inside it all. The grove where winter stays waiting and the cold snow keeps calling.
I am lost as winter passes to the warmth of spring and from spring to summer then from summer to fall; where flowers bloom and the aroma encircles like the bliss of heavens touch; a campsite where the warmth builds from the slightly seen stars above and the fires glow; where the colors fade to auburn and oranges itch cool breezes through sunlit trees.
The edges of life pushed away where stress melts and natures love stay within the wind; just there on the he fallen tree; a bird sets to rest her weary wings, the magnificence of her color tells me her name. Blue and green ruffled feathers and a ruby throat. She turns a little and her feathers glitter like jewels of the earth and sky.
My heart breathes and I close my eyes; listening to it all. But alas there is always more to it than that. There is what lies beyond the hidden grove. And even more so beyond all of that. What I see is not just the painting but the world within it; the emotions of life imitating art.
I am lost as winter passes to the warmth of spring and from spring to summer then from summer to fall; where flowers bloom and the aroma encircles like the bliss of heavens touch; a campsite where the warmth builds from the slightly seen stars above and the fires glow; where the colors fade to auburn and oranges itch cool breezes through sunlit trees.
The edges of life pushed away where stress melts and natures love stay within the wind; just there on the he fallen tree; a bird sets to rest her weary wings, the magnificence of her color tells me her name. Blue and green ruffled feathers and a ruby throat. She turns a little and her feathers glitter like jewels of the earth and sky.
My heart breathes and I close my eyes; listening to it all. But alas there is always more to it than that. There is what lies beyond the hidden grove. And even more so beyond all of that. What I see is not just the painting but the world within it; the emotions of life imitating art.
