A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.
There once was a writer called Jem
The best of her erotica made one ‘ahem’
Much to her shame
She has quit that game
OK she still writes some of them.
A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.
Nonsense verse that makes sense.
A love of Lear comes forth.
Dribbles and drabbles so intense
Like winds that bite from the north
Botherswipes that get in the way,
Grumblewits that say grow up now,
An inner child is at her play,
To keep her alive is my vow.
A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.
The rule of play now is a beat,
To give poems rhythm and flow,
The meter gives a verse some feet,
And words now glow.
A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.
The sonnet, long has been my muse in art
My dearest Shelley now lies in my heart
As paint and I unite with words of love
Like minds in time, a creative team above.
He died before his time in foreign sea,
He comes alive in paint and board with me.
'Though he was born two hundred years ago
In all his work I see my world on show
I paint and try to think as Shelley thought
The rebel of a Lord in Scouser's art
I use my talent and the skills I'm taught
But mostly I just paint a poet's heart
I want to try to paint away my rage,
He used a pen to put his on the page.
A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.
Words can be art, an image paint,
A poem can set feelings free,
Emotions with colour acquaint
A poet of sorts I will be.
Creation of art on paper,
Arts form a union inside me,
It really is quite a caper
A poet of sorts I will be
I am learning meter and rhyme
As part of classic poetry,
Flowing like paint, I hope, in time
A poet of sorts I will be.
A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.
Poetry and art combine
Amidst my blood, they entwine.
Imagination and creativity
Needs that make me who I am
Talented, probably not,
I am not conceited that way.
Now and then inspired
Guess that is nearer the truth.
Peripatetic, with no line limit,
Overview of my poetic
Experience you want,
This is it … thus far.
A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.
Adding your comment:
