Silverdays... You are a true word artist.

Your picture painted
from the rise
and fall.
Surf crashing, ebbing
Words rush, fade
Velvet smooth
Glorious shapes of rhythm
bring colour, sound
to the mind's eye.
I tell you now
Silverdays
your inspiration
was not lost.
It found a home with me.
Who dares
say I
tell us how
and cut our flow
Who dares
say I
tell the artist how to paint?
I'll tell them where to go.
The Snipe

Well here is another one Snipe

Differences

My thoughts are not the same as
Your thoughts! How can they be
When I am me and you are you.
Our lives for a time run parallel
But your ways will not be mine.
For sure our minds will touch at times
And even meld together
But my thoughts are not the same as yours
How can they be for I am me and you are you.

Although we travel side by side
I do not see what you see how can I
When I am me and you are you.
The things of great import to me
May not rate a glance from you,
Your view will be coloured
By your life, not mine.
How can I see what you see
When I am me and you are you.

I do not hear what you hear how can I!
My ears are tuned to a different song.
They hear the sounds of my life's journey,
Your ears are tuned to yours.
Sometimes we clash in discord
One note is high, another low.
Oft we echo one another but too late.
I do not hear what you hear
How can I, for I am me and you are you.

I do not always want the same as you.
How can I, for I am me and you are you.
We often reach a compromise
Not quite me and not quite you.
That is how we rub along for we know
With any other it would be the same.
The differences are just meant to be.
I do not always want the same as you
How can I, for I am me and you are you.


(C) ES

Thank you Silverdays for the encore. Quite a sobering thought really, isn't it... that no one is a truly perfect fit for each other. We may blindly pretend they are, in the first flush of love though!
You are so right. Images, colour, sound and touch etc. are all uniquely perceived by every individual. What amazes me is the difference in the perceptions of men as compared to womens. How wonderful it must be to not notice dirt or mess!

The Conversation:

Abstractions form the prose
To which rhyme and rhythm rose
To which thoughts of love and beauty
Flow throw mind and soul

Words enter in a jumbled way
To solidify what you want to say
They sentence together and form your story
Through throat to tongue and tooth

One cannot imagine a world of silence
Trying hard to imagine it's brilliance
Yet words flow in imagination
Through cortex to cortex to and fro

An answer comes in glory
To tell that wonderful story
It flowers in the mind
Through language it is expressed.