Still Life With BrushesA Poem by David P. EckertDeveloped a poem to go with a painting of mine
Still Life With Brushes Bright brushes rest against an edge, alive in grind-free coffee cans. They guard against their gaunt-eyed artists, ceding slumber like Lenten luxury. Well beyond your viewer’s sight before all foreground, left or right, speckled hands and jeans and shirt proclaim the painter in the night. You see a head, an artist’s prop, vacant eyed and shadowed neck, etched hair waves across the top and not the drama in the lights unless with color brilliant, vibrant he wakes you from bland reverie and squeezes like a tube of paint, until you’re feeling frail and faint. Speckled hands and jeans and shirt proclaim the painter in the night. well beyond your viewer’s sight beyond the foreground, left or right Chiaroscuro sings the rose black shadowed in the backlit light; ceramic glaze of ripest peach sparkles shine on rounded urn to challenge bold magenta cloth whose folds protest in violet hues while happy tubes of paint await the canvas’ immortal fate. For well beyond your viewer’s sight past backgrounds that stare black as night his paint-specked hands and jeans and shirt proclaim the painter of the light. © 2008 David P. EckertFeatured Review
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13 Reviews Added on February 15, 2008 AuthorDavid P. EckertRoslyn Heights, NYAboutPsychologist, Writer, Painter, Father of 2, Grandpa of 2 cute, smart and beautiful little girls, Husband, Keeper of Dogs, Fish and Fruit Trees and generally Busy Guy. more..Writing
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