If you are my muse and you are my art,
How could I ever contemplate turning away,
Leaving behind the very essence of my life
And the core identity of my breath as an artist?
Even in the midst of this bitter cold,
Amidst the fallen leaves of autumn,
As I dip my paintbrush into radiant plasma reds
And tears that have fallen like poetic salt,
With every stroke upon the canvas,
Allow me to paint a miraculous garden,
Where my enchanting muse's presence isn't lost.
His hands caress each cloud, murmur from every tree,
And echo the words of love and death....
About the Creator
MR.Marsh
A shining poet who weaves emotions and tales into a few rhymes.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Comments (3)
Oooo, radiant plama reds. That was my favourite part! Loved your poem!
Fantastic!!! Love it!!!💞💕💗💖👍
This is so beautiful! I love it!