Who’s The Artist?

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Quote found at www.apsisanet.com by Mary Engelbreit

Quote found at
http://www.apsisanet.com
by Mary Engelbreit

But I’m not an

…Artist…

A stranger was in my house late last night. I could see a male silhouette in a shadow sitting at an easel. I heard the paper roll being pulled behind the drawing board, pencils and brushes screaming to create a mysterious gift. I don’t know what petrified me the most; seeing someone in my house, or what would be the final draft. But where did he come from? I didn’t invite him inside. This wasn’t a dream.

I could see the scenario taking place while lying in bed. There was no going to sleep this evening, until this nightmare ended. That’s a bizarre statement. I’m consciously watching the shadow of the night. Well sort of.

It wasn’t until early morning that he went outside, and finished his masterpiece

Sitting under a tree.

9:58 AM

Vera Robinson © 2015

Photo.lab creation Ms. Vee

Photo.lab creation
Ms. Vee

Missing Him On Ground

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…Just…

Before he left he took

…One…

Long breath and I never saw

…His…

Beautiful face again

…Except…

In my memorable dreams

…The…

Longing is an overwhelming

…Sense…

Of loneliness for a twinkle

…Not…

To glimmer on earth

…Hence…

I look to the sky, the beauty

…Has…

Passed from being on ground

…There…

Are souls dancing in the

…Clouds…

3:47 PM

Vera Robinson © 2014

Waiting

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She sat alone in the dark, waiting by the window to hear the sound of the old pick-up truck. She could hear the loud muffler chug as it pulled up the narrow driveway. She could smell the thick black smoke polluting the air.

The scent was welcoming. She raised herself from the broken chair that creaked like her bones. Her eyes were burning from the fumes, while tears ran down her cheeks. It was the moment she had been waiting for; she was ready. Her driver had finally arrived to take her home.

7:15 PM

Vera Robinson © 2014

Writing Thoughts

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Quote credit rishikajain.com

Quote credit
rishikajain.com

With a shaking hand and crooked

…Fingers…

 My hand is slipping

…As…

I’m gripping to write my thoughts

…They…

Are trapped between pen and paper

…Meaningless…

Unheard voices, with complex choices

…Unless…

 They can be expressed

…Verbally…

 Typed or written

…So…

 I will write

…Long-handed…

ON unlined paper until

…I…

Feel the flow

…Or…

…Until…

The ink runs dry

7:35 PM

Vera Robinson © 2014

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