Some men see colors
and grow crops
at the foot of rainbows
They paint sunsets
balancing on terraces
singing of cloudless climes
Some men make music
that drifts and hangs
on silken notes
in village air
They catch poetry verses
like wild butterflies
and arrange them
under night skies
carpeted with stars
Some men create magic
and measure it out
in silver china plates
Some men build with
tiny sun beads
that shed light
on a cynical world
These men
conquer gray skies
and refuse to planted
in asphalt
Reblogged this on John Cowgill's Literature Site.
Thanks John 😀
You are welcome.
nice post. interesting ceiling too.
Thanks Jim!
What gorgeous imagery. Beautiful poem, Lana, and thank goodness some men are capable of greatness.
Yes, thank goodness indeed. Thank you for the lovely compliment, Diana 😀
Amazing how different we all are, huh, Lana? I guess the best thing is to cultivate the talents we’ve been given (you’re doing great at that!!)
We sure are, Debbie. Thank you so much 😀
‘They catch poetry verses
like wild butterflies.’
Beautifully written, Lana, this wonderful image stands out for me…I can just feel that child-like moment of trying to net a butterfly, elusive, the joy of catching one…the feeling of joy when writing works!😀
Ah yes, you surely know that feeling when writing works. I wish it would work for me more often, ha ha. Thanks for the generous compliment, Annika!
Wonderful, creative poem, Lana! Lovely artwork too… 🙂
Thank you, Iris!
Every line a beautiful homage to the arts! The Renaissance is one of my favorite periods in art history, and I can never stop marveling at the beauty that has been created throughout the centuries. Thank you for bringing it back to my mind, Lana! <3
I love the arts. They bring out the best in all of us. Thank you, Sarah, so glad you liked it 😀
They really do! And I couldn’t live without art, whether doing it myself or just admire the things other people create. It´s as vital to me as the air that I breathe. I know you know the feeling 🙂
I certainly do 😀