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The Master's Brush
 
Picture: wind chaos on Jupiter




Colour the wind...the wind blue
and now the sun...the sun rose.
A rainbow palette to paint the sky,
will I paint it right, do you suppose?


Sunsets vermilion, cyclamen, gold,
daubed on by the Master's brush.
Try as I may I cannot achieve
perfection of an innocent blush.

Admitting defeat, I abandon the brush
in favour of poetic words,
describing creation as best I may,
my country, my people, my birds.

Our father loves it when we write
in praise of His creation,
to bring Him honour, glory and praise,
in earnest appreciation.





By cherryk

© 2017 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: Anything Goes - AG (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: Anything Goes - AG (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: Anything Goes - AG (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: Anything Goes - AG (challenge has been closed)


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