Whose hand put to paper
red sable hair, saturate
with pigment
dark
yet not?
Whose mind first created
your image in sepia
tones earthy
raw
well-thought?
Whose eye deviated
from photo, modern media
to render
bird
here caught?
Who
really
is The Creator?
It is a lovely painting. Lovely words to compliment it, too.
So beautiful, Kim!
Firstly I must say how much I adore the watercolour of the little brown bird – nothing carries the touch of an unknown artist quite like a little painting. You have captured that idea so well in the opening stanza, and you ask a very pertinent question in this poem.
You should ask Blake…the profundity of the question is beyond ordinary mortals. more importantly, what surprises me is why you had kept quiet in the last couple of months and managed to curb this creative spirit of yours.
Oh, Abin…You are thoughtful and kind!
I had some health issues followed by surgery. The pain medication zonked me, too. I AM now well again and back to my own, true self.
Lovely picture; and your words would definitely make the creator proud!
It really is beautiful, that painting (I love the light in the bird’s eye), and your poem, brilliant.
Awe. Perfect words for this little lost bird. She is quite a charming artistic rendering..
So beautiful, both poem and painting……..
No attribution anywhere? How sad, yes, for the artist and for the little lost bird. And yet he found you, and surely finds others, too, so he may be lost but he couldn’t be lonely.
I love your poem.
Thank you, Kay! I spent hours looking for creator. Perhaps he/she will find me, us!
Who indeed? A thoroughly enjoyable write.
such a sweet little watercolor bird…it seems it’s round belly could fit well in one’s palm…perhaps now, by virtue of your loving poem you have become it’s adoptive mother?
I like the sound of that, Laura!