The Artist (National Poetry Writing Month #14)   Leave a comment

The artist pours his heart
Into the canvas again.
Each line, a memory,
Each color, emotion.

The left corner, his true love
The center, the loss of a friend
Every section, a moment of his life
Laid out bare for all to see.

He steps back, admires his work
This one, truly, is his masterpiece.
He turns to show someone
And no one is there.

The canvas lies in storage
Next to it brethren,
abandoned, alone.
The artist nowhere to be seen.

“There is no point to it.”
says the artist,
“Because what good is art
Without the audience?”

Shaman Romney 2014

Posted 04/14/2014 by Shay in National Poetry Writing Month 2014, Poetry

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