The Artist Is Inspired

There He sits on his stool,
easel and canvas sit in front of Him,
what will He paint?
He runs to the window,
He sees a Dove fly by,
He runs to the door,
He sees a Lamb trot by,
what will He paint?

He walks back to the easel,
the canvas in its blank tranquility mocks Him,
what will He paint?

An idea grows,
could it be?
Could He be?

A sphere of blue is formed,
the canvas cannot complain.
The sphere is now dotted with green!

The Artist has now painted His masterpiece!
In the darkness sprinkled with light,
life now resides.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Dannie Urban 23 April 2011
Nice poems, I like it. :) I like the way you write your poems. If you can, please message me on poemhunter.
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