Three Short Artistic Poems!

 

Art-Tis-Ticks.

 

There is art

in my heart,
strokes of

brilliant red,
not hung

in galleries.
Brushed up

featherlight against
the flesh palette

of my chest,
my navel is t

he thumb hole.

It paints each

moment of my life
in vivid colors

passing by.
endless flubs

are dubbed
suitable to hang

around another day.
It's works are

framed in bone,
tamed by muscle,
and it is inspired by
the many carbon

copies expired.

It is the canvas

for my soul,
pounding out

the framework
for love, hope

and happiness.

There is art in my he-art!

 

 

 

©-MFB III

 

 

 

 

 

Imagine!  

Imagine the chance
to read your best poem
to an audience of the
almighty God, and his angels.

Innunciating each
well crafted satnza
as it echoes through
the vast spans of heaven.

Would he nod in approval?

Or would he have

already critiqued you,
by the silencing of

your mortal breath?

Sift carefully through
your verbal stew,
lest you stand before
an assemblage of saints
and burn with shame!

©-MFB III

Spatters On A Gossamer Frame.

 

Let my words
fall in organized chaos
inkjetted across
the span of the world.

My canvas a web,
catching the

colors of thought
sucking the

blood from them,
and leaving

any dessicated husks
in crumpled balls
of what will never be.

Spidery fingers

creeping rapidly
across tightly

woven web squares,
spinning a tale,
and then awaiting

the lure.

The catch,

the entrapment
of a each passer-by
struggling to grasp
the meaning of the end,
which they've

now reached.

 

 

 

 

 

©-MFB III