Friday, March 01, 2013

The Frustrated Artist Frees His dream

Category: Poetry/Lyrics

Whether you write, paint or simply doodle, you know how free you feel when you’ve created something great. When you’ve painted a scene from inside your head or you’ve written a song that expresses your soul, there is no greater feeling, nothing to make you feel more alive. But when you struggle to create, you suffer writer’s block or can’t find the muse, your inability can cause a deep frustration that makes the world seem like a lonely, bitter place. This poem is about the process of creating art, of finding inspiration when it seems like there will never be any inspiration again, and its about beating the frustration that all artists feel sooner or later, finding that spark that brings joy to your life!

Why Does the moon always seem to laugh at me?
Does she enjoy my struggle and my pain?
She hides my muse within her misty veil,
Cunningly plotting to trick me again.

Another wretched day has ended,
My paint brush and palette lay deathly still,
My inspiration remains elusive, out of reach,
Thus the empty canvas taunts me at will.

‘Paint me, Paint me fool,’ it suddenly cries,
‘Can’t you see I’m naked and cold?
Cover me quickly with warm swirling colors,
Magical colors that flow and explode.

Sunny yellows, deep blues and violet,
And shocking pinks streaked with passionate reds.
Refreshing greens and exotic oranges,
Aren’t any images floating around in your head?

Paint those brassy buxom beauties,
That drive the men crazy with their seductive lips.
Dress these women in wind-swept short skirts,
revealing voluptuous butts, thighs and hips.

What more could a man ask for?
Of course, with painted faces and red glossy lips,
They’ll likely look like a bunch of whores,
Let’s go, let your mind whirl and explore, need I say more?

So, come on now, don’t just sit there,
With your hands parked behind your head.
Night’s approaching, the day is dying,
It will soon be time for bed.’

‘Silence, Silence,’ the angry artist shouted,
‘Or I will slice you and your emptiness to shreds!
How Can I paint when there’s nothing but your canvass,
To inspire me and drag worthy images from my head?

You think it’s that easy to paint?
Though it appears deceivingly so.
I’m trapped in a well of loneliness
With no lover to call my own.

I won’t just paint any old thing,
That comes off the top of my head!
I want to create my masterpiece,
If not, let my talent stay dead!

Leave me be, leave me to my nocturnal sorrow,
Where sleep will allow me to thankfully forget,
And hope to find inspiration tomorrow,
So I can at least pay some of my debts.’

The Sun’s gone down and the full moon streams
Through my windows, so beautiful and sweet,
Yet I toss and turn as beams caress my face
Because peaceful sleep eludes my embrace.

I lay awake, completely exhausted
As thoughts dance in my head,
The night seems to go on forever, so,
Maybe I’ll go for a walk instead.

The cool breeze lightly kisses my cheeks,
The full moon hangs huge, low and bright,
Suddenly out of nowhere, my muse comes alive,
Crossing my path to lead me out of my plight.

She’s a vision of loveliness, walking her dog.
She smiles and says ‘hello and good night!’
My heart was smitten by cupid’s arrow
And I know that I’ll never again be right.

Excited, I returned home for some sleep, to dream away my sorrow.
In dreams I danced with my loveliness, cheek to cheek,
As my buxom beauties bounced around beside us,
Singing sweet songs, coming so alive, their cheap perfume made the air reek.

When I awoke, emotion and dreams sprung from my brush,
I filled canvas with the inner depths of my soul,
I began to paint, stroke after stroke, with vivid colors
Leaving impressions quite pretty, yet bold.

I am alive again, can’t you see, my soul has been freed,
My muse is no longer trapped by the night and the moon.
I found inspiration and beauty and found my reprieve
So it was worth it, and I’ll do it all again very soon!

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Old Comments

  • I love the imagery and symbolism in this piece.

    Posted by deminizer  on  03/01  at  05:42 PM
  • Page 1 of 1 pages

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