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The painter

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Below is the poem entitled The painter which was written by poet Andrew Ross. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The painter

A painter once waited day and night, for a beauty to arrive at his door
Day after day when she did not arrive, he figured he'd wait one more
Soon he grew weary, hopeless, and a little distraught
For he still hadn't found the beauty he sought
He set out on foot to lands far and lands wide
To find this rare beauty for wherever she may hide

He painted the valleys, the rivers, and fields
All the cities, the buildings, the knights and their shields
The men, woman and children were all painted too
Provided they paid a few nickels or two
He traveled wide and far; much time was spent
To find the beauty for which his canvas was meant

One day he came across a small town off a path
He got a room to clean up and take a bath
As he sat by the window pondering who she might be
The beauty he so desired is what he did see
He jumped and hollered, but she was just too far
So he ran down real fast and jumped in his car

Buckled his seat belt and sped off real fast
Narrowly missing some people as he passed
So focused on her, he ignores all the cries
Swerves hits a pole, crashes and dies
The beauty ignores him, and walks on by
Not even batting an eye lash, or leaking a cry

His obsession was too much, imperfection in everyone
He found no beauty where there was none
All the time searching and money he earned
Only made him more hungry for what he yearned
Beauty is found in every King, peasant or crook
You can enjoy it if you take the time to pause and look

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