Cobb Co. Studio Arts


An on-line tapestry, more colorful than black could ever be,
From connected threads of warp and woof and vanity.

Of boxes and bridges, riversides toofried eggs somewhere,
Phantoms on the wallshadow talk, darknesslight also there.

Sun, Moon, and stars in the night cannot reveal
The pythons focused undaunting sight

It's amazing the things that happen on the way to adulthood,
Collective "strands" that surpass our wildest dreams for good.

Riverbanks, riversides, and even river edges, (s)pools of thought,
Mind encounters form fantasies of woven treasures.

Old folks and young folks, daughters and sons,
Grand Dads and Grand Moms, and new babes on the run.

Fishing holes and marching bands, and fingers in the mud,
Flowered fields and Septembers, and shooting stars above.

Memories of pastel and lace,
Form part of our pattern in deep cyberspace.

Spoken in eternal rhyme, worlds long past, worlds ahead,
Our whispers softly form the prayers for our dead.

Dreams have come and gone of countless unseen faces,
Bring close-up awakenings at dawns early traces.

Like quicksilver are the glances and smiles of strangers faces,
Their elusive eyes mirror our soul, but never will embrace us.

Sometimes there is hurt in the knowing, other times, true joy,
We make plans to gatherthe tapestry keeps on growing.

Echoes resound like sound bytes gone awrydoors keep on
Openingjet trails forming smoke ring windows cross the sky.

Winds forever blowing upon the pages of our minds,
Like the blurs from drunken eveningsa page or two gets left behind.

Midnight choirs sing B. Neuwirts song, indeed,
And, in the magic of the moment, find us all the time we need.

"There is truth in there",as Nantoo once said,
About Merasus "Walls", built to hide our pains and tears.

We search for "The Grail", our thirst to "Quench all",
>From a "conch shell", found in Kalnins hall.

Time is slow in passingfor those who mourn and grieve,
The demise of loved ones, shared tears upon a sleeve.

For empty chairs that are neatly clean, and celebrations,
Memories unforeseen, returned from the closet, dust covered bottles, no

There are times to leave, if theres nothing left to say,
Its nice to believe in tapestries, whenever were away..