If I could paint angels
I would paint angels surrounding me
I would paint all the souls I miss every day
Into life and have them here to stay
I would paint them from my heart
So they could be outside me
And I would never throw
The paintings
Away
A lone butterfly
Sharing splashes of color
Against pure, clean white
Our Butterfly is
Ready to fly, spread your wings
We kiss you goodbye!
Place our butterfly where we would like butterfly to be
Clean the slate for our butterfly
As our butterfly appeared to be
My fingers painted
Poetry with blood dripping
From my bleeding heart
My daughter and I are having girl time. Boys are out on a three-hour cycle. My son is planning to do a ninety km event later this year. He will be twelve. Good for them I say! In the meanwhile my angel daughter has plaited my hair and touched up my face. She is teaching me to paint because she has been “painting for ages”. Her presence lights up my world.
Crimson paint is splashed across the crisp, clean fabric of a nation’s flag – the last works of a man before being tied to a cross and shot – the dripping of wet paint as red as the blood that flows through veins paints its picture without words, and as the canvas dries, the pumping of the blood throughout the body slows, until it eventually stops.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Wall to Wall.”
Purchased in Africa
This painting inspired me
To create a sanctuary
Of peace and serenity
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Unsung Heroes.”
When my artist friend becomes famous
My claim to fame could be
I have a painting by her hand
From her hand as a friendship gift
Kindly given to me
He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty
William Blake
Poems and Petals 