If poetry was a brush
And my words were my paint
Let your mind be your eyes
Let the strokes of my words feed your soul
Of soaring eagles, circling, watching
Over white tipped mountains, towering
Standing proud, with valleys at their feet
With lush green tree tops looking up in awe
Cold clear water from melted snow
Falling over waterfalls, moving in slow motion
Winding rivers that Carve the earth
Pushing forward to feed the ocean
Beautiful sunrise as it peeps over mountain tops
Giving warm rays of light, feeding all
Clouds full of rain, shower life to every grain of sand
A golden sunset that disappears off the horizon
Rolling desert sands that dance with the wind
Dead grains of sand teaming with life
Amazing lakes, still like glass mirror the sky
Watching flocks of birds playing in the breeze
Rocking waves pushing back and forth
Icebergs bobbing like ice in a glass
Vast ocean waters that swallow the sky
Ships crossing a seemingly endless void
If my words painted a picture for all to see
One painting but different to all
Each beautiful to the minds eye
May it`s beauty feed your soul
23 may 2010
Vaughn Bekker
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poetry-my-brush-first-non-rhyming/
