He picks his brush up, remembering what was taught.
He finds his imagination to begin creative thought,
He pauses, staring at the white below;
He waits until the rooms within begins to flow.
Then, like a man controlled,
unthinking with body and soul,
from mind to paper he begins to trace,
the painting that thinks, the painting that talks.
For in his junk shop studio,
and in his junk shop life,
the ARTIST creates from his junk shop mind.

Mistakes are echoed again and again,
throw them aside and aim your aim.
Learn from your falls, fly with your fire,
his story is told though hearts true desire.
Hopes and dreams, well, keep them alive,
listen to your voice, you will always thrive,
never give up and never lose sight,
for persistence pays when the story is right.

A picture is painted in thousands of words,
and the poets vision is dying to be heard,
for his mind is controlled by his time,
influences, prejudices and the rhyme.
For within creation ART will live,
and within emotion the painting will give.
so hold to that, of life’s thought,
with imaginations and experiences brought,
can control your quiet space,
with that flair of brushes’ grace.
And remember, that the life ART travels,
in painting his life’s journey will unravel.