My Empty Enemy.

A short poem about an artist and his enemy

The canvass looks at me with quiet satisfaction

It's white threat loud in its silence.

In this land of nothingness,

There are no colours.

There are no patterns.

Only white snow and whiter clouds.

Blank. Barren.

The emptiness, a selfish companion wants not

anything but itself to be remembered.

 I am lost here.

But I cannot lose to it.

Out I climb from this infinite expanse.

The brush-my ladder and the paint-my rope.

Out I come with a smile and a sigh.

Raise my hand and wound the canvass

with blue blood and pink pus.

My enemy vanishes with the unspoken farewell:

"I'll get you next time."

Next time. Maybe.

A battle for another time

Until then, I draw my victory...

Author's Note

My first poem...
Tell me what you think.

Reviews

[Thomas Skahill]

For your first poem I am impressed, I wish mine was this good. As a fellow artist I completely understand your frustration regarding an empty canvas and the liberation of pulling an existence out that nothingness. Keep up the good work, I'm happy you didn't awkwardly rhyme through your first poem either. The play of lose and lost is especially concise and struck me, the only critique I may offer is your ending. I feel the verb draw plays on alot of levels your ignoring with the words around it. Just food for thought, keep it up.

[blueash]

Thank you. That's really encouraging. And I appreciate your critique on "draw." I'll think about it.

[Navatechs LLC]

I loved the concept and idea. Everyone feels this way at some point when they have a creative block or a lack of inspiration.

[Ezekiel Silver]

An extaordinary piece that beautifully expresses the essence of being an artist. Excellent work!

[Caftra]

Not a bad piece. As a person who has written all his 25 years I found this to be a very strong start. The hardest step is always the first one. I enjoy the want to not lose to a stark white canvas, or in my case a blank piece of paper. keep going