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Sunday, 5 May 2013

Whispers In The Whirlwind


Words tumble on the page
Falling simply into place
Create the landscape of his dreams
Another time, another place
As they stumble in the silence
Maelstrom whips around his world
And the beauty in his writings
By the masses are not heard

Ink flows from quill unbounded
Careful lines become complete
Paint the story in his mind’s eye
Full of wonder, soft and sweet
As the parchment sucks the palette
Storms thunder through his tale
And the eloquence of artistry
Unseen by many they fall pale

Splinters fall on the wooden floor
What shape remains takes form
Chipping away at blank canvass
From inanimate new life is born
As chisels carve their images
Tornadoes rip apart the dream
And the careful crafted paintings
Fed to pyres, sight unseen

Voices reaching out with hope
Sweet timbre tones reflective
Words that flow without remorse
That picture life’s perspective
As the artist’s tell their stories
Hopes blown and left unpinned
All their voices remain merely
Whispers in the whirlwind

© Fergus Martin
2012