Poems and Paintings

I do not own
these words I use
but write them as I wish

They will convey
the things I feel
but speak not just for me

They will obey
each one who reads
in spite of my intention.

No different than a piece of art
hanging in a hall
each raised for interpretation

Brushstrokes of script
framed in a mind
borrowed yet not directed

And I will accept
what others will see
upon canvas same as page

For a poem is a painting
and a painting is a poem
and I am not so proud