Painters, tread not upon my Art
For they are paintings too.
My black and white landscapes are just as vivid as your pastels.
Musicians, laugh not at my composures
For it is music too.
Their rhythms are just as soothing as your finest symphonies.
Sculptors, scorn not my chiseled rock
For this stone is thinking too.
These statues form far greater poses than your bits of clay.
Photographers, speak not against my portraits
For they are pictures too.
My photographs capture things your greatest lenses cannot find.
Artists, I ask that you please listen
Judge not the genre of my words,
For they hold beauty too.
Joshua Valentine
2008














Comments
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Nice poem, by the way.
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I'm like a ball of yarn that wasn't neatly rolled
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Art comes from the soul , not the tools used to create it.
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My
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