All seeing eyes.

Paint, the blood of an artist's hand
with words as wealth to understand;
and music pure to feed the soul
with sounds of song and joy.

Chalk and charcoal scratch as nails
across the fabric of the sails
of things as seen by open minds;
embroidered stitches made in time.

Through each and every tapestry
of all the woven life they see.

Reviews

[J. Marc]

Red and black is how I saw the poem when I first read it. But at thesecond time, very different feelings emerged. Your poem is made to be discovered progressively: the plenitude one can reach in art, the discoveries of the inner secrets that it provides. The subsequent sentiments were quite ambivalent: aerial for the discoveries and pleasures it augurs, depth and inner existence for the essence that it represents. Definitely interesting work!

[Ken Simm.]

Lovely interesting write.

[SPINNING ON that dizzy ..]

Oh, I love this.... just was searching for something to read that would make my heart sing and came upon this.... it is pure poetry.... and the words paint such a sweet and beautiful picture for me - Thank you.

Kath