Master Painter Poem by DM W

He's the master craftsman of soft burning bliss:
Who's concerned with the seed and not the flower.
He captures the light and shade of joy and loss;
He's blessed with a subtle, discerning power.

He's aware of extremes that spoil the effect:
Such as when one object obscures another.
He discovers then creates; never dissects.
His palette abounds with vivid, fresh colours.

He is so self assured in his wisdom that
The slow arrow of beauty will hit the mark.
From purple tainted skies of evening twilight
To rich golden cornfields and silver strewn stars.

From his pristine dove whitened winter landscapes
To his surreal meanderings; genius prevails.
He's a painter who portrays, but doesn't preach.
The detail in each brushstroke is so complete.