Strolling Through The Orchard Of Art Poem by Joshua Bantum

I’ve been too young for many years
To now be able to fruit
The sweetness from my vines that I desire most.

I’ve scaled across the branches of many trees
Got caught my legs in sap
Sweetness
And desserts delight of many artists who never let the fight
Fight back and take ‘em…

Man was given eyes to see that which never could he covet,
This is our only sin
One which is implanted to the roots
And thus, not our fault

My inability to appreciate your skin
Is not one of personal distaste
But simply and absolutely
Is a problem with my nature

A thousand words this week,
Six thousand words last month
Forty thousand words last year
Which of them could I recite to you now…
None,
This is not my personal distaste for my art
But simply and absolutely
Is a problem with my nature

I have been given hands to only scale your body of perfection
But not given the mind to unlock the box
Which holds the porcyelne ballerina
Twirling with the stars in their yearly migration
With the moon on her monthly ministration

I have only been given what you see
And if expecting more than that is selfishly what you seek
Then find yourself in a different field of fruit
Picking from a different tree,
And likely you’ll find me their also
Tasting all thee other brilliance for inspiration that sparks my mystery.