An Artist, in Brush and in Line
A portrait may be painted by pen,
as in the words that rhyme,
An artist, and in his character,
but a portraiture of the sublime,
The written language, to be conveyed,
a quality, of the superb.
Expression transferred from the thoughts,
using adjectives, and the verb.
Emotions to flow on paper by ink,
there, exquisitely displayed,
Transgressions of the mysteries,
all of life's puzzles, to be portrayed.
A representation of the grand beauty,
in nature's gifts are seen,
Drawn from a mind and by the hand,
of a world, in lines, so keen.
His palette is of the most marvelous,
the chosen colors, in their hues,
So carefully depicted in their reflection,
as it enhances, or subdues.
The written works, rare artistry, just as fine,
as are the comparisons, made of us each,
As the richest painting, is a vision, supreme,
in such lofty heights, that it may reach.
A dappling of the visual spectrum,
as in a rainbow's brilliant perfection,
The pen of the author in works of prose,
or in the rhyme, in its detection,
Wonderful is its message, a sweet repose,
or in its powerful persuasion,
The mysteries of the universe, all solved,
by the hand, in its concentration.
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