DORIT DORNIER

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Musings of a tightrope walker...

 

Poetry & Painting

Poetry is like painting with words

It's best

With a lot of open space

Within between above behind and around.

I like to dream

In the spaces between

I like to breathe

In the freedom of open space

I like to soar above

In limitlessness of the unspoken

I like to move behind and around

In feeling at home within. space.

Painting at it's best

Is done by a poet with brushes

With a lot of open space

Within between above behind and around.

 

Waiting

Another meadow… another piece of paradise
Imagine you will fly… floating on the evening sun’s last ray
While the grass angel ’s asleep… and only one cicada sings
The trees are waiting… waiting… waiting…

Another evening… another day has parted
Imagine you will hold… the best of all its promises today
While the grass angel ’s asleep… and only one cicada sings
The dreams are waiting… waiting… waiting…