When handed white paper i (series poem 1)

never understood
abstract
it wasn't my thing
I was very technical
I saw straight lines and I followed them.
I never saw the point in
creating something
from the heart.
Keep what is in the heart
Inside of the heart.
Do not let it out.
Now
I let it all
out
with colors
flying
through the air
purple
on my paper
swirling into
spirals
like my life
with a backdrop of
orange
to show the
fires
i have set
friendships
i have
burned.
when handed white paper i (series poem 2)

-me
5/1-10/2012

grey clouds
smudged on a canvas of blue
soft as the sand.
a lazy artist
swirling the murk to life,
formless but living.
shafts of grey
slide to a mirror surface,
feet stepping on each other.
the ocean,
undulating to unheard rhythms,
a blend of swirls and ripples.
grey clouds
set free in waves and foam,
dancing to the shore.

D.B. 5/11-12/2012