Monday, 21 July 2014

The Artist

There are no haunted places,
Just people haunted by pasts and presents.
There is nothing not worth expressing,
For no one has lived without falling.

Not everyone can dream so celestial,
For most people’s understanding is but elliptical.
Not everyone can make with pain such a tryst,
For not everyone can be called artist.

The artist writes till his fingers bleed out his soul,
The artist paints till his art paints out his ghosts.
The artist strums through the emptiness in his heart,
The artist lets his sculpture be his art.

The breadth of the artist’s inner wings,
Cannot be measured by man-made things.
For everyone is but too sane,
To make beauty from so much pain.

13 comments:

  1. This is really well written and the rhyme scheme fits nicely Suyash. Thank you so much for sharing this poem with me on my poetry blog. I will have another challenge up next week if you'd like to participate in that one too. :) By the way, I felt like this poem should be placed right next to some kind of sculpture or painting in a art museum. It is beautifully raveled together.

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  2. You have really written a poem filled with depthful thinking here. I can tell you FEEL this poem. The artist does indeed let his sculpture be his art, whether it be with clay or with a pen. I do hope perhaps during the week you will return again to Poetry Jam with a new poem, as I note the date on this one. The prompt will be up all week, so there is time.

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  3. oh that last verse is definitely my favourite verse; luv the soul searching in your poem

    have a nice Wednesday

    much love...

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  4. ha. I love the end....too sane to make beauty of such pain.....
    and who can tell...at least the artist has an avenue to express it before it drives us truly mad....really well expressed...

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  5. I guess you are right, the artist's authenticity can be measured by their commitment.

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  6. Oh this is a wonderful portrait of artists......I especially love the stanza that begins "the artist writes..." - all the ways artists bring forth their souls and their gifts....wonderfully done!

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  7. I can connect with your third stanza a lot! The artist tries their best to reveal their emotions and their views of the world around them. Poetry has a magnificent way of capturing the essence of everything. Sometimes it is even able to draw out something from nothing if an artist knows their way around. You did a great job describing what writing means to you.

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  8. I especially like the idea of artists having inner wings. Lots of ideas in this.

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  9. The third stanza rang so true to me. I write and paint and sculpt. You nailed it!

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  10. I simply loved these lines:
    The artist writes till his fingers bleed out his soul,
    The artist paints till his art paints out his ghosts.
    The artist strums through the emptiness in his heart,
    The artist lets his sculpture be his art.

    You said so much in these lines! Simply awesome!

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  11. The breadth of the artist’s inner wings,
    Cannot be measured by man-made things.

    I really like these words!

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