Paint your portrait,
Canvas stretched,
Framed, by other words,
Splash with colour,
Light will find
Art and truth in daubs.
Capture soul,
With candid shots,
Exposed by camera shot,
Communicate,
Whatever means,
How all change is wrought.
Speak the words,
Listen too,
In lines we read between,
Doubts and questions,
Head held to side,
Squint before the screens.
Not all pictures
Breathe fine art,
Not all media true,
Interpretation,
Opinion polls,
Up to me and you.
🙂 up to me and you …. how true and love this.
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Thank you, Serins. Who else can we depend on if not ourselves? Thank you for reading and commenting.x
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Problem is we all have slightly differing interpretations of situations and, as one gets older, experience teaches us to trust less and adopt the cynical view, ergo change falters. If only hearts were worn on sleeves, and meanings were clearer.
A thoughtful and powerful poem.
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I’ve become something of a cynic myself. But I’m also an eternal optimist. Ever hopeful. 🙂
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