he walked through meadows
of summertime wildflowers
in his deathbed dream
sketch
Untitled
wash over me
in cool blue hues
that may turn
these red thoughts
into purple dreams
Sketch for a later poem
how do the new sown poppies grow
white as February’s fallen snow
but in summer they glow fire red
when painted with the heart’s blood of the dead.
First Breath
the roses exhale
as velvet petals open
dew shines in the sun
sketched lines for a butterfly motif
a butterfly in shades of grey
born on wings of morning dew
gliding through my memory
drinking from my thoughts of you
sweet nectars of each smile I hold
gentle from my dreams of thee
then taking flight to dance away
now painted in my reverie
start of a poem about a beekeeper
in a little wooden hut
in the middle of a wood
lived August
with his little dog
and bees
whenever he would sigh
and think life had passed him by
he’d remember
that they all did
as they pleased
Rossetti’s Woman (a sketch)
with cream roses fair
she combed her hair
and left life as it found her
pale of skin
no breath within
canvas stretched to clothe her
