Art
Where does art come from?
Who has the ideas –
whose hand moves the vermillion brush
running into green-gold skies?
Who is it that loves water
and a glaze so sheer it
shimmers with melting light?
Who is in love with the tender line,
the blackest storm and the crack of light?
It is me and more than me-
the hand of God loves art.
I bow my head,
stand slightly aside –
hands, brush, heart.
we wait.
Cheryl R. Long
Solstice December 21, 2008
Cheryl,
I love the many poetic devices you are using in this seemingly simple poem: strong lyric images, alliteration, assonance, off rhyme, near rhyme, direct rhyme–wahoo for poetry!
I will sends you a few notes via e-mail.
Sandy