Poets write words
Of joy and sorrow
Ambitions, hurts
But as they leave
The tip of the pen
They are no longer her words
Or his, but then
The reader paints the images…..
Scattered on a floor
Shadow of a yester-year
The wind-swept shore
The lips that smiled
Or breathed a sigh
Hands held for a little while
Before good-bye
Poets write words
But on walls
Of dimly-lit corridors
Are drawings and sketches
Viewed only by he
Who paints the picture
With the words
Of poetry…………..
Janet~
The poem is wonderful, making the connections I feel too. I think though, the artists may draw and paint have an easier path. The real artists are the poets and writers who create images with their words.
ReplyDelete