The Arts; A Journey: Magic Fully Revised, Mar. 24, 2017

I’m very excited to announce that I believe I have finished revising Magic. I hope you enjoy the result, and encourage you to share your thoughts/comments (For comparison, you can find the original version of this poem in the post entitled The Arts; A Journey: Magic).


Magic speaks in whispers,

Running gently through the wood;

It prances over rivers;

And refracts light in shivers.

Winking from each flower,

Glinting off of crystal dew;

‘tis the sweetness in the air,

Painting colors barely there.


Magic enchants your eyes,

Playing just beyond the touch.

Beckons to the golden bee,

And adorns the fruited tree.

It is the bird’s trilled song;

The pattern of growing moss.

In the shade it romances;

And in the Sun’s light, dances.


May you always see her,

As she weaves throughout this life,

And value her charming voice;

For on this Earth, ‘tis our choice.

Let thine eyes nary close,

Nor thy ears ever deafen,

Without finding her each day;

Heaven’s Light within Life’s Grey.

Magic; A Poem Revisited

I’m very pleased with the progress that I have made in revising this poem. However, I don’t consider it fully revised yet….it feels incomplete somehow. I’m going to do further mulling this week, but for the moment, here is where she’s at:


6a Magic speaks in whispers,

7b Running gently through the wood;

7c It prances over rivers;

7c And refracts light in shivers.

6d It winks from each flower,

7e Glinting off of crystal dew.

7f ‘tis the sweetness in the air;

7f Painting colors barely there.


6g Magic enchants your eyes;

7h Playing just beyond the touch.

7i It beckons the golden bee;

7i And adorns the fruited tree.

6j It is the bird’s trilled song;

7k The pattern of growing moss.

7l In the shade it romances;

7l And in sunlight it dances.


As always, I encourage people to critique my work and share their thoughts. I don’t know exactly what needs to be changed or added to this poem, but, to me, it doesn’t feel quite done.

The Arts; A Journey: Magic

The following is another of my poems that needs work. It isn’t as much of a train wreck as Truth’s Joy was, but it definitely could use some fine-tuning.


6a Magic speaks in whispers,

7b Running gently through the wood;

6c Prancing over rivers;

7c Refracting light in shivers.


6d Magic winks from flower,

7e Glinting off of crystal dew.

6f The sweetness in the air;

7f Painting colors barely there.


6g Magic enchants your eyes;

7h Playing just beyond the touch.

6i It brings the butterflies;

7i Gives warmth to the frosted bise.


6j Magic gives birds their song.

7k It binds the leaf to its tree.

6l The waterfall chimes clear

7l And over rocks, fairies peer.


TECHNICALLY the meter and rhyme are on point; however, when you read it, it doesn’t flow very well. The inflection is off. I’ve never paid deliberate attention to inflection, but it is what I need to work on next if I want to improve.


The Arts; A Journey: Truth’s Joy Fully Revised, Jan. 28, 2017

I wandered around the Earth;

Searching for light in Night’s girth.

I rode on the wind ’til it blew nary more;

In a pursuit of things that true brilliance bore.

I walked ’til my feet turned dust;

Longing for a beauty, just.

I swam through the deepest sea;

Chasing after Wonder’s glee.


Night had long tainted my sight;

So I saw nary but blight.

And, wandering, grew weary,

‘Til I was limp and dreary.

When I found myself ‘neath humble stars of blue;

In dampened caverns they’d sparkled, ever true.

Though small, they shone with valor,

mocking my faithless pallor.


Convicted, I traveled North;

With the Wind bearing me forth.

While, below, Isle changed to Shore;

Youthful Seas turned bitter hoar.

And I was let down ‘pon ice;

Forsook to my own device.

I bemoaned my plight ‘til mine eyes caught this sight:

Hands, unseen, painting colors across the night.


With this Patron at my head, I started ‘new;

And at my feet, before my step, a path grew.

Thusly, for days I went;

‘til my legs were worn and spent.

I trekked to an isle lapsed;

‘pon Aogashima collapsed.

‘Twas there I learned Wisdom’s poise,

Away from all earthly noise.


In peace I swam the oceans,

Free of all null emotions.

Once I had grown exhausted of wanderlust,

‘neath the waves I freely sunk, in faith and trust.

Bubbles flew through dyed light.

And I surrendered my might.

My dreams were of a world, whole;

One only seen in the lull.


‘wakening I knew new height!

This world is one of foresight;

Of formed wonders and unknowns.

An Earth of reverent tones.

A planet and universe most intricate;

A galaxy of the grandest design Witt.

I will walk my days in bliss,

A joy only known through this.


What do you think? You can find my original version, for comparison and discussion, in the post: The Arts; A Journey.

I cleaned up meter and added a traveling “couplet”.

Truth’s Joy; A Poem Revisited (Part 1)

I had promised Truth’s Joy rewritten and posted today; however, I have been unable to complete it. So, I will post what I have so far, and the rest later.

Truth’s Joy

I wandered around the Earth;                                     7a

Searching for light in Night’s girth.                            7a

I rode on the wind ’til it blew nary more;                   11b

In a pursuit of things that true brilliance bore.            11b

I walked ’til my feet turned dust;                               7c

Longing for a beauty, just.                                          7c

I swam through the deepest sea;                                 7d

Chasing after Wonder’s glee.                                     7d


Night had long tainted my sight;                                7e

So I saw nary but blight.                                             7e

And, wandering, grew weary,                                                7f

‘Til I was limp and dreary.                                          7f

When I found myself ‘neath humble stars of blue;    11g

In dampened caverns they’d sparkled, ever true.       11g

Though small, they shone with valor,                         7h

And mocked my faithless pallor.                                7h


Convicted, I traveled North;                                      7i

With the Wind bearing me forth.                                7i

While, below, Isle changed to Shore;                         7j

Youthful Seas turned bitter hoar.                               7j

And I was let down ‘pon ice;                                     7k

Forsook to my own device.                                        7k


In the original poem that you read before, I wrote about the darkness of the Earth, and then contrasted that with the truth of it’s light. I’m still not sure that I’m happy removing that dark portion, but I’m running with it for the moment.

Then too there is the third stanza, which, as you can see, is not completed…I lingered too long I think at the beginning of it. I should have had the lines move more quickly. But I can’t make up my mind.


The Arts; A Journey

As a melancholy, my heart hears the call of many artistic masters. At the moment, however, I have narrowed down my goals to just 3:

  1. Have my poetry published.
  2. Start an Etsy Stationary business to further my art
  3. Take my oil painting to the professional level.

This page is dedicated to the journey I will take in pursuit of these goals.

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words. – Robert Frost

Poetry is the art of expressing simple thoughts elaborately, and elaborate thoughts simply. – Eliza Rashke

I have found our culture sorely lacking in art that inspires and uplifts. It would seem that every “artist” among us today is so wrought with pain that they cannot even raise their heads from the mire of their own dysfunctions; let alone elevate society with their contributions. That is not to say that expressing pain is wrong; for it is through an Artist honestly expressing their pain, and offering Truth’s solution as healing, that the rest of Society may progress.

The fact is, if a Society fails to produce artists that awaken the population to Truth, good as well as painful, then the Society is not one worth participating in. As it stands now our “Artists” are not merely failing to point out happy truths but even painful ones. They are so enwrapped in their own neurosis, unwilling to truly examine them and heal, that they are only producing lies. Lies about themselves, lies about pain, and lies about our Society. And we, the people, are enabling them.

Every time we look at their work and do not call out the lie, we are encouraging them to continue in their needless suffering, and to continue producing false works. We do this because we prefer the pain of lies to the hard work of healing. But that’s the beauty of art, it can be so poignant when it sheds light on the truth; and is powerful only when it does so.

I am currently working towards having my poems published. At the moment, I am not only producing new works, but also editing old ones. Below I’ve posted one such poem:

Truth’s Joy

I wandered around the Earth;                                                    7a

Searching for light in Night’s girth.                                            7a

I rode on the wind ’til it blew nary more;                               11b

In a pursuit of things that true brilliance bore.                     11b

I walked ’til my feet turned dust;                                              7c

Longing for a beauty, just.                                                           7c

I swam through the deepest sea;                                             7c

Chasing after Wonder’s glee.                                                     7c

This world is one distorted.                                                         7d

A world that’s buried its soul.                                                     7e

This is a world in severe agony.                                                  10f

A world that is crucifying its talents.                                         11g

This is a world of fancy.                                                                 7c

One ignoring its nature.                                                                7h

This world is ever changing;                                                         7i

Never stopping to check course.                                                               7j

I wandered a great while,                                                            6k

From land, to sea and isle;                                                           6k

I strayed through the Caves of Waitomo;                              9l

And saw the stars, fixed to stone, aglow.                              9l

With such a rare beauty they shone;                                       8m

One that said, “We’re never alone.”                                       8m

Mine eyes filled with bright tears                                             7n

A soft leaving of fears.                                                                   6n

When the wind let its sails slack,                                               7o

I was left in heav’nly peace.                                                        7p

I slumped to the earth, fatiqued;                                              7q

And tipped my face to the sky.                                                  7r

I cried out at the great sight;                                                       7s

There were colors dancing ‘bout,                                             7t

Weaving  ‘cross the frigid sky.                                                    7r

And a truest love warmed me.                                                  7c

When I could carry my weight no more,                                9b

And my aching legs were all but wor’;                                     9b

I found land uncrossed.                                                                5u

A place time had lost.                                                                     5u

I was as in a dream on Aogashima;                                           11v

Finding the peace desired by my anima.                                                11v

I reveled in solitude, inhuman,                                                  10w

Learning an ancient ordained acumen.                                   10w

My arms grew wearied within the water;                             10x

I let myself sink in trust, and faith.                                            9y

Bubbles ascended through tinted light,                                 9z

And all about me hushed and stilled.                                      8A

I perceived a most gentle carress.                                            9B

Letting myself fall ‘way to slumber;                                         9C

I dreamt of a world beyond our own.                                     9m

A world only seen through the silence.                                  9D

‘wak’ning to life I knew new height.                                        8z

This world is a world of foresight;                                             8z

Of created unknowns.                                                                   6E

This is a world of reverent tones.                                              8E

A small world most intricate;                                                       7F

Of a grandest design witt.                                                            7F

I will walk all my days in bliss;                                                      8G

A joy that only comes from this.                                                                8G

Good Art should have a true message, of course, which the above does; however, Good Art should also follow the rules set down for that particular medium, which the above does not. As you can see, the meter runs rampant and irregular, and the rhyme refuses to flow. As a result, when you read this poem, you become agitated and disoriented. I am revising the above to allow it to blossom into a good work of art.

Today, our Society’s “Artists” produce works like the one above and present them as fully complete. After all, who needs rhyme and meter? Oh wait…THEY DO! If it doesn’t follow rhyme or meter, 999 times out of 1000, it isn’t a poem. So why do we let them get away with this? Ignorance of poetry? Perhaps. I’d say, more often than not, it is because our Society, at present, values giving everyone a “Participation” trophy, over encouraging gifted people to produce life sustaining truth.

You see, our Society is AFRAID of success; AFRAID of the extraordinary. Let us not be these people. Let us demand excellence and perfection. It is not unattainable. To that end, I will be re-posting the revised version of this poem next Friday at midnight.

Please feel free to comment with critiques and/or thoughts. I encourage discussion.