Dorsey’s Palette

For a long time, now, I have had the idea of how cool it would be for artists to reflect one another in word and image and music.  When we step out of competing with, and being intimidated by another’s work, we realize there is so much we can gain from working together.  In that spirit then, I want to post other creative work which has been in some way brought to my attention. Here is a poem written by Debbie Liberman.  She is a writer and an artist who I have known for years.  Thank you Debbie!

Dorsey's Palette

Dorsey’s Palette

The light that flows from your palette
through your heart guided by your hand
is a gift bestowed upon you
by a stroke of His master plan.

For you are amongst the chosen
your colors embrace His light
your canvas swirls with poetry
from your soul which burns so bright.

The poet’s palette is filled with magic
for I can feel the rhythm of the tide
the salty sea is ablaze with moonlight
in the mist your paint brush hides.

You make the universe an acrylic mystery
whose layers must be peeled
this allows us to discover
what the artist chooses to reveal.

I am nourished in the presence
as each canvas comes to life
crafted in tranquility
by the glory of your palette knife.

The pathways paved of pigments
always lead me to a mystical land
where I rest quietly under a shady tree
as He reaches out His hand.

There are poppies that embrace the purple paths
surrounded by lush fields of green
a sweet child walks in wonderment
to a place unseen.

Landscapes sprinkled with grazing sheep
all in a happy mood
from your canvas they stare back at me
and tell me to be soothed.

There is a canvas of mischief
with a sheep’s plump cheeks facing me
the poet’s palette has a sense of humor
for all who wish to see.

Your signature red rooftops
vibrate in the sun
blue windows softly summon me
when the day is done.

I dream of stepping into each story
and sitting by the water’s edge
picking fragrant blossoms
before I tumble off to bed.

The beauty of the night sky
causes me to weep
but I am comforted by a moonlit lullaby
the dancing stars gently rock me to sleep.

What a grand adventure
if my dream could only come true
my heart would overflow
and I would be renewed.

The gypsies jingle past me
over the hills and fields below
making their way down to the sea
their caravan in tow.

For they seek the salty secret songs
of the ancient waves upon the shore
that leave behind imprinted clues
to open the Sacred Door.

In a garden of bursting blooms
a woman bends her back
she picks the flowers so tenderly
shielded from the sun in her red straw hat.

The scene appears so tranquil
but I sense a wound whose scars run deep
I know she will be reborn in the dusk of their tears
for I can see the flowers weep.

On a joyful jaunt along the sacred shore
a child carries his pail
he hunts for buried treasure
and watches the red boats raise their sails.

Innocence seems so fleeting
he has grown into an old man
but he returns to this place of joy
where he made castles in the sand.

The shore has not forgotten
the small footprints he left behind
nor the pail claimed by the sea
that he would never find.

Trust in the shadows
of his newfound wings
for they dwell in a secret place
where you can hear the angels sing.

The poet’s song is gently carried
by the tidal breeze
its notes are filled with beauty
that bring me to my knees.

His Holiness has touched this place
I have been here before
I can hear the longing in their whispers
as they splash along the shore.

The moon dance has begun
the stars awaken in the womb
a deep blue hue surrounds them
their joyous hearts will beat in tune.

By Debra Liberman © July 2007
Written for Dorsey McHugh, whose palette is filled with the poetry of His light.

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