Array ( [sid] => 178288 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Masters Brush [time] => 2014-05-10 01:06:26 [hometext] => An artist starts with a blank canvas and creates something hopefully beautiful but the closer you get it loses it's beauty in random brush strokes.The closer you get to creation the more intricate and beautiful it becomes [bodytext] => When I look o'er the vista, as a canvas for the Masters brush
No one could e'er paint such a scene, no man with such a touch

The trees in ever constant change..... from bud to golden hues
The green and luster in between ..... does glinsten with the dew
Sun filters thru the swaying limbs, finds space between the leaves
to on the ground, no poise, no sound .... it moves and seems to breathe
The rivers and the rippling brooks .... they wind in disarray
as if they had no where to go, so lost and banks so frayed
they live between the jagged rocks, confined .. but yet so free
and follow paths just out of grasp, unknown to you and me.
I look o'er the valleys and fields ...so silent is the sway
the wind moves thru the lea so new, to change from day to day
I walk, feet bare , with out a care .... the beauty fills my eyes
The thistle pricks my naked hand .... I now feel so alive

So paint this vista, this scene do try...... you mortal with no touch
This canvas void til one inspired .... reserved for the Masters brush
[comments] => 3 [counter] => 97 [topic] => 19 [informant] => unknownlegend [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => InspirationalPoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - The Masters Brush


The Masters Brush
Date: Saturday, 10th May 2014 @ 01:06:26 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: unknownlegend
When I look o'er the vista, as a canvas for the Masters brush
No one could e'er paint such a scene, no man with such a touch

The trees in ever constant change..... from bud to golden hues
The green and luster in between ..... does glinsten with the dew
Sun filters thru the swaying limbs, finds space between the leaves
to on the ground, no poise, no sound .... it moves and seems to breathe
The rivers and the rippling brooks .... they wind in disarray
as if they had no where to go, so lost and banks so frayed
they live between the jagged rocks, confined .. but yet so free
and follow paths just out of grasp, unknown to you and me.
I look o'er the valleys and fields ...so silent is the sway
the wind moves thru the lea so new, to change from day to day
I walk, feet bare , with out a care .... the beauty fills my eyes
The thistle pricks my naked hand .... I now feel so alive

So paint this vista, this scene do try...... you mortal with no touch
This canvas void til one inspired .... reserved for the Masters brush


This poem is Copyright © unknownlegend


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