The Artist

18th September, 08:21

Hi all,

This is a poem I wrote a few weeks ago – hope you enjoy.

Georgia x

 

The Artist

The canvas always started blank;
that was the beauty of it.
For whatever she had done before,
she could do differently now.
Or, if she wanted, she could do it
just the same.

She often began with black;
people forget how much black offers.
A steady, sturdy start.
Mysterious yet elegant,
harsh along the edges, soft in the centre,
offering beginnings and ends.

After that there were blues;
blues of all description. Light
and dark, thick and thin;
a secret, unsung hero
within the rainbow, quietly
joining the hues of beauty.

Twists and turns; reds, violets,
bruises and blood.
Are they joy? Are they pain?
She can hear them whisper,
but she cannot understand.
No one understands.

Black. Blue. Red.
Such a simple marriage of three
merging together, clasping hands,
breathing as one. They offer an abys,
an abstract, a skyline at night.
They offer solstice; a haven of colour.

She never kept her creations;
that was the beauty of it.
For whatever she had done before,
she could do differently now.
Or, if she wanted, she could do it
just the same.

abstract-in-red-blue-black-joe-michelli

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