| White canvas' and drawers full of color | | | | |
| | | | the sea lions chime in |
| brushes | | | | |
| | | | and together we feel our artful journeyLove |
| clay | | | | |
| | | | all the beauty around me |
| pencils and paper to write out my ideas | | | | |
| | | | breath it in |
| waiting for meInspiration | | | | |
| | | | make it my pleasure to visit anytime I |
| somewhere between folded memories and todays | | | | chooseI take out my pen and write all my |
| rainbow or stormy clouds | | | | childlike adventures |
| | | | |
| My creativity depends on my focus | | | | I write and it saves me |
| | | | |
| I smile | | | | encourages me |
| | | | |
| I frown | | | | protects me from my own self sometimes |
| | | | |
| I tear up and feel the pang of some ones | | | | gets it all out for all to see or to hide in |
| defeat | | | | my closetI write |
| | | | |
| oft times my ownArrival at a mermaids den | | | | my friend, my pleasure this pen of mine |
| | | | |
| flight of a nearby fairy offering her dust | | | | My companion from whomever the words are |
| | | | birthedand then.... |
| Images of old masters who never knew their | | | | |
| worth | | | | I cry |
| | | | |
| How to books of arriving at someone else's | | | | I cry because I lust for my arrival to that |
| vision | | | | space |
| | | | |
| Movies of passion or tears | | | | that space that dismisses criticism |
| | | | |
| Fashion magazines and torn out pages of | | | | that ache |
| sensual poses | | | | |
| | | | I cry because it seems only inches away |
| Fashion magazines of women who line up | | | | |
| perfectly in a crowd | | | | at any given moment my teacup might fallSo I |
| | | | YELL |
| filed carefully to meet my moodMelted, my | | | | |
| treasures | | | | I YELL at the incoming traffic |
| | | | |
| together with music! | | | | floods of eyes showing disapproval |
| | | | |
| Ahhh music my muse! | | | | and I YELL at my own struggleTurning around |
| | | | |
| Play it as loud as you can without alarming | | | | I see meI pick my battles and I run |
| the neighbors | | | | |
| | | | I feel the breeze in my hair |
| Feel the base and the pounding of musical | | | | |
| notes as they meet their objective | | | | sweat falling from my head to my neck that |
| | | | confirms my travel |
| Know the lyrics and sing to the top of my | | | | |
| lungs | | | | and I feel the rush |
| | | | |
| Yes sing! | | | | because I run as far as I canI lie flat on |
| | | | the floor |
| All the magic around me is readyThen dance! | | | | |
| | | | quiet |
| Dance free on the sand of the closest beach | | | | |
| I can find | | | | still and quiet |
| | | | |
| Dance on fresh mown grass | | | | I listen to the sound of my own breath |
| | | | |
| feel the blood rush to my head | | | | I try to think of nothing |
| | | | |
| Dance like a fairy under flowers and leaves | | | | no false prisons that lock out creative |
| | | | souls or the inner child |
| Dance swimming swiftly just like a mermaid | | | | |
| | | | I think of nothingSilence enters and I am |
| Feel the wetness of her travel | | | | calm |
| | | | |
| close my eyes | | | | once againBirds |
| | | | |
| yes, I am there!So Swim! | | | | the wind through the tree |
| | | | |
| All the fish adorned with their jewels of | | | | my cat licks my face |
| color | | | | |
| | | | I open my eyesWhite canvas' and drawers full |
| and the dolphins of yore | | | | of color........ |