May 20. 2012

The Painter and The Poet

let me start

at the beginning

where it all began

and tell you the

tale of a full grown man

i've been twiddled and tweaked

had many miss-speaks

but i'll tell you if i can

about my love of a woman

she came out of nowhere

when i wasn't looking

she was wholesome and divine

and really had it cooking

it happened when i had

the least little notion

she came like a meteor

from over the ocean

not in person or in the flesh

it was through poems and paint

that our souls did mesh

for it was over a painting I painted

we first became acquainted

i had posted the art out in cyberspace

and a poem was commented in it's place

i tried it again with another painted piece

more rhymes appeared, odes, ditties,

sing-songs, a delectable feast

i did rendering after rendering

and her words appeared tendering

that forgotten place in my heart

where grace, love and mercy had no part

but her words undid me

as my paintings unleashed her word bar

and we ferociously tendered and rendered

from over the ocean afar

through our artistry we became close

closer than close

til our spirits overlapped the waves

and we created such overflows

of paintings and poems, impressions and prints

charcoals and sketches while stanza after stanza she sent

would we ever meet or physically speak

this art over the ocean went on for weeks

time went from seconds to a full long year

i was her darling, she was my dear

it was the faith of the ocean that kept us near

we aged on the page her words mellowed my rage

i helped her to soften as i painted her often

in ways that i thought she would be

and thus she wrote her thoughts of me

it mattered not if she

was lean or fat

she wrote a poem saying she too

did not care about that

this went on and on her pen to my painted song

and for my every brush stroke

a poem from her it did evoke

how long could this last

my brush to her pen

it was unspeakable to think

our pleasure should end

but one day canvas after canvas

i painted and cyber sent

but her writings stopped

without even a hint

month after month went

by but so as not to die

through the fever of neglect

and through the art of my respect

for her words that had gone dry

i feverishly painted without asking why

many years passed then one day when i came home

a huge envelope in my mailbox was found

with a frayed yellow ribbon it was bound

i opened it and out poured poem after poem

so many poems galore

i sat and arranged them on my paint spattered floor

they spoke of her love and all things dear

and once again her words drew me near

she spoke of money sorrows and unexpected tomorrows

full of badly thought out borrows

and all of the lack of care

it was more than any true love could bare

pained I went for a walk to get much needed air

i stepped onto my porch to depart

I stopped with a start

there were poems every where

tied on branches of trees and stapled to leaves

and there on the lawn of my grass

was a poem that I thought would never come to pass

there, wrinkled and gray sprinkled she stood at last

i toddled to her age riddled with my cane in hand

and kissed the best portrait in all of poetry land

we walked down by the ocean I sat with my head on her thighs and

from sunset to sunrise, I recited her every poem for I had them memorized

I taught her how to paint with the last of our time

she taught me to write love words with or without rhyme.

so now I'm at the ending of where it all began

some paint and some words

between a woman and a man

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Please contact the author Yolantha Harrison-Pace to buy the book.