Art Poems

HARK, whilst thee singeth melody,

gauged labyrinths midst harmony,

ransom subconscious, placed thee free,

persuade possessed, heed thy purged glee,

beg reposed heart thy beating plea.

Themes prune labor to

                                            Where am I? 

This

An explosion of hair in her face is disclosing
the beauty of the eyes veiled beholding
a dream unfolding where the poor are gold and
war is at

It crows at the dawn of day

Despite sun or rain

Its crowing resounds in my head

As I turn and toss on my bed

And when I step

We are artists too

We like to draw

We don't hang out arts;

Not in galleries 

It's mostly hidden 

Under long sleeves and gloves. 

In the tears of the flute 
I have lose far beyond 
The tune of the flute is like the tune of my cry 
She is

intricate designs grace wintry windows

       frosty lace across the pane

              angels sign their art work

Well over a hundred years ago

The illustrious Vincent Willem Van Gogh

A genius somewhat like Michelangelo

With thousands of artworks in his cluttered studio

From the sublime to the

O what emotions stirred

The colours and hues

The contrasts and textures

The splashes and strokes

Artists expressing it all

Serenity and madness

Gentleness and vulnerability

Passion and violence

Letting it surface

Like a

Tiny little hole in the wall

Their real business putting on plays

But wee mini art exhibit

Open to the public

During the day

How I loved to slip away

At