#975014 added February 15, 2020 at 9:53pm Restrictions: None
The Blank Art (Theorhetical Poetry)
The blank canvasses on pedestals follow,
study my art.
But I've had one eye out the window,
in their galleries;
dreaming on blue, high clouds, yearning
whisper my name,
fully realized, oil-based brilliance, also lonely
like this poet.
The blank pages on lighted screens
never follow.
I've had one eye on the past
in their galleries;
dreaming blue, low to floor, pining they
whisper their name
fully realized, pixelated brilliant again, lonely
like this poet.
The blank constructs on fading pages,
my art.
I've had two eyes scanning ageless tomes
for right words.
Imagination fading inside my head, aching
like the nameless,
fully realized my art is not persuasion
for true beauty.
Blank,
following shadows that never materialize,
eyes
collecting words like gemstones in your path,
dream
I'll assemble a message for all time,
realize
this poet and beauty do merge ageless,
alive.
I'll make no excuse for this, something I wrote and moved on from.
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