Fine Art Whimsical Angels Commission Me, So I Paint Precious Images

Fine art whimsical angels commission me
I paint
art work in butterfly gardens
precious images
and yet...

The leaves were made of plastic
The stones were made of silk
and all the flower petals
lined the skyline
before they spoke.
The creator of webs
his forte art nouveau
this fantasy art woman
listened
I tried to decipher his story.

I found myself in contrast
to the home the tailor had made.
Yet rivers met the dirt
beneath his pot of gold
the old man sang his tune
and washed my sins away.

Flowers were meant to
verify our mourning
or bring us celebration.
I had to pause
and look inside my heart.
I grieved for me
sent support for the old man
and yet
his heart was torn
apart.

I picked the only flowers left at midnight
and held them captive.
With much precision
they returned my steady glare.
I picked up the innocent flowers
a bouquet of much descent
I said I understood their warnings
would be careful
with their lace like innocence.

One day must be holy
We all must guard reserves
and although the dragon
received no loyalty
this day was welcome
over graves that will forever teach us
what is there for us to learn.

The moon never howls at midnight anymore.
I guess the end has found its way
to being somewhat happy.
Long past the eerie decision
when a dragons angel ran away
I mark my place.
I hold my compass nearby.
Despite my marooned friend's mistakes
He still claims to have found the answer
and vows to chant its tune
and ring its sound forever.

Don't ever trust a tailor
to darn your mending heart
left to his own wisdom
he will post your wings on coasters
neath a glass he meant to wash
and put away on a dusty shelf.

There is an honesty in lying
and a joke beyond the smoke
Yet there are no longer monsters in the closet
to decipher glorious roars.
There is a tail behind the dog
pretending not to wag
and I say
gentleness caresses the moons adventures
and I will climb that restless gift
though tattered from past decisions.

Spaces of acknowledgment
that must be deeply felt
a journey that reaches to the other side.
A center for compassion
for our own endeavors
and indeed
our own encumbered selves.

Fine art whimsical angels commission me.
I paint
art work in butterfly gardens.

Copyright January 2007, Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

The Art of Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
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