I may be an artist with brush of skill
I may be a musician rare of thrill
Possessed of voice sweeter than my pen
I may sculpt in clay now and again
I may be starving for all you can know
I may be bleeding for what I would show
I may be weak or weary beyond your ken
Or I might be quite blissful now and then
You may be all of these things and much more
You may be my equal on every score
You may own many such fine qualities
As those I hold, or quite diverse from these
Yet intent upon private mirrors
But a sole reflection can there be
I do not know you
And you don’t know me
Anyone who does know you is privileged indeed. A finely penned and provoking piece Mary. But we expect nothing less. t x
This was a very deep poem. It touched me alot! : -) Good job.
I am not sure why all the low rating, easly a ten for me, The write is well thought out, with deep meanings...excellent write Mary.
Beautiful picturesque words pull this piece together very well! I love the artistic nature of it and your style of writing shines brightly once again in this one. Keep up the Awesome work Mary..... Shelley
Mary, I've come to know you as a wonderful loving person who can relate to the earthly things in our lives.This poem is simplistic and meaningful with every sentence, I enjoyed it very much. And thank you Mary for your inspiring comments about mine.
Love the last stanza... and I do know you.... and your wonderful poetry! Rx
ciao, mary! skillfully crafted. thoughtful rendition. a grab of a title! carpe diem! aaa
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh so very true, we cannot get to really know another while focused on ourselves.