THE ARTIST

A Poem by Shweta Sunil

Life as we know it-
Thoughts too cliché to handle,
Painted with gay colours,joy and grief.
A brooding black on one corner,
That spread into corners,that
Once were beautifully blue.
Life as we know it-
An articulate description of faulty vision--
Some with a symphony too plain to breathe,
Others with a pain that sings in itself.
As it drifted away,in a bubble of sudden loss,
Once fruitfully borne,
Wilted away under incredible sunlight.
For all the blue had been consumed,
Nothing to colour the sky,but sinful desire.
The brush plunged into dark black,
Splashed the ink on the art
The clouds ,blotched with runnin’ shadows,
Devoid of relief after accomplishment.
The art, created by the one that lives it,
Was stared at,cursed at,
And the colours,mocked at,
For overwhelming false comprehension--
By the artist,himself.
The artist,who--
Dreams it,paints it,lives it,blames it.
The artist,that dies through it.
The artist,the impaired,reckless artist.

© 2016 Shweta Sunil

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register

Featured Review

Coyote Poetry

To create art or words. Song or painting. Take imagination and hard work.
"The artist,who--
Dreams it,paints it,lives it,blames it.
The artist,that dies through it.
The artist,the impaired,reckless artist."
I liked the above lines a lot. Thank you Shweta for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote