Art is Here(April 7, 2011)

Art is Here
April 7, 2011

The painted floor,
the dark shade on the wall,
the dripping oil,
that painting of awe.

The color bright,
that makes your eyes blink in fright,
the damaged scene,
that looks so clean.

The yellowed hall,
that begins it all,
the door to blue,
the one next to you.

The doubled stripes,
strokes of light,
that cover the cloth,
the picnic basket.

Drip,
and splat,
there is an orange cat,
right there sitting in a hat.

Art is here.
Colored and shared.
Not knowing sometimes,
what exactly is there.

BOOM,
fire and ice.
Mixed mediums of time.
They dry alright.

Just tilt your head,
squint one eye.
It’s really an elephant,
or maybe a candle lit table.

Mud(April 3, 2011)

Mud
April 3, 2011

gray dark sky,
and sun lit morn,
oh how the seasons go,
and the days flow.

you know where you are,
it’s all that you see,
like you’re stuck in mud,
you can’t find solid land.

left,
right,
hit a brick wall.

no where to see,
a new place to be,
because life is scrambled,
like an egg,
and you can’t see all the puzzle pieces.

the water is high,
you can’t breathe,
so overwhelmed in the middle of the sea.

the growing trees,
that mark the time,
the rings in the core,
count the days.

footprints from the mud,
drag on,
as the clock tells time,
and the road is fine.