Looking back over all the things I’ve printed on the page

there seems to be gap between the truth of what was felt

and what’s imagined

The words came while I was still questioning the validity

but what I then went on to feel was always with such certainty

 

There is a space between

there is a space between you and me

filled with things half said

 

Sifting through the web of painted scenes I chose to show

there are great swathes of missing detail I deemed too complicated

my vocabulary was much too meagre to convey them with any accuracy

and what I left scratched for all time was never entirely clear to me

 

There is a gap between

there is a gap between me and you

filled with things half said

 

In this process to which I’ve chained myself; there are flaws

techniques not learned, corners which must be cut to fit

the sanding down of edges to ease the story onto the paper

just tiny shards omitted, yet they soon add up

 

There is a space between us

there is a space between the story and plot

filled with things half said

 

Will I ever be skilled enough to bridge the gap

will I ever have the talent to fill that space

with something other 

than things half said...

 

(Aug, 2011)