“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”
painting
Oh Starry Starry Night
Oh starry starry night
Please tell me all you know.
Please tell be how all life began
and tell me how you grow.
Oh starry starry night
Please whisper in my ear
Please tell me all the secrets
You’ve held through all your years.
Oh starry starry night
Please carry me away
Please lift my feet up off the ground
and hold me till’ the day.
Oh starry starry night
Please cast my thoughts aside
Please clear my mind of fragile qualms
And dwell where they reside.
Oh starry starry night
Please sing a lullaby
Please sing it to me soft and sweet
And lay me down to die.
Sky Colors
Writing paints a picture
That a paintbrush never could
Poems invent colors
That you probably never would.
Poetry takes the madness
That we all have in our eyes
And lets us find its uses
In our everyday lives.
Poetry takes the anger
And boots it out the door
Bringing calmness in its place
And always wanting more.
Poetry takes the problems
That we all face every day
And makes them look so tiny
In every single way.
Poetry takes your life
And begs the question “why?”
Poetry is not writing
It’s painting with the sky.
-©2012 Alex Hicks
The Painting
You’ve seen this before
You’ve gazed on this painting
This portrait of sadness
Your eyes swelling, tainting
In the portrait you see
A man sits alone
The oils refine him
His future unknown
But is it a painting?
Or a mirror of kind?
Telling the future
Or the past left behind
If you stare you will know
That the painting you see
Is both the record untold
And what has yet to be
And as time passes by
The colors will fade
Until all that is left
is a canvas of gray.
©2012 Alex Hicks
Into Dawn 