The Artist (Poem)

[hevvonly]

The Artist

Too oft in solemn solitude, he would view
The living, breathing work he had construed
As something less than wondrous, and, in pain,
Would with one brush stroke vanquish all he'd gained
Till all the jewelled light and patterned shade
Upon his canvas, glowing, once had shone
Like candlelight which, burning, fades the dark
Is stilled and banished to eternal gray
So he extinguished that which in his soul
Did not uplift but merely stirred his wrath
Yet never seeking nor desiring thoughts
Of others who may choose to like his craft
And whose opinions could have brought him peace
But choosing rather to elude the grace
He shunned the sooth of those who strove to mend
And travelled through the shadowed light on wings


I wrote this poem in memory of my stepfather who was a well known BC Artist living on Vancouver Island. I can recall that, on many different occasions, he would begin to paint with a concept in his mind but after perusing what he had painted on the canvas, would end up "painting out" the picture and starting over. Genius is a gift that can carry a heavy burden: that of intense self-criticism.

(C) Copyrighted

[sleepdeprived]

Absolutely lovely, hevvonly.

Thanks for that.

[hevvonly]

Thank you so much! My poetry means a lot to me but I've never posted it before as I am one of those "sensitive" types who trembles at the thought of negative criticism. I noticed others had posted their poetry and took courage from that!

[Piecemaker]

Your poem describes the creative process of many artists. Well done.
When you write, write to say what you want to say. If others harshly criticize or do not understand it, it only means it did not touch them. There are many works of art and literature that are accepted as "masterpieces" that I personally can not relate to, however others can.

[hevvonly]

Thank you!