artists oils

“I dwell in possibility”

The poet Emily Dickinson wrote

Of portraits not yet painted

And of music as yet without notes.

The inspiration’s hovering

Above the canvas smooth and still,

And yet I hold the paintbrush

Like a writer holds his  dripping quill.

The colors dance behind my eyes

And in my heart like butterflies;

I wonder what with colored flair

Will possibly be painted there.

It’s like a secret not yet heard,

A poem yet without a word.

But whispers dance along my skin,

They tell my paintbrush to begin.

I think it’s hope that gets set free

Dwelling in possibility.




4 thoughts on “Possibility

  1. Middle aged? When does one become “middle aged”? You are still young and vivacious, intelligent, strong willed and very talented as a poetress. Your youth is still with you dear lady.

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