The Old Guitarist

Blue is the colour, blue is the period, blue is the mood As Pablo's mind sunk, on the meaning of life he did brood. The death by his own hand, of a friend that was close Left Pablo the poor artist quite depressed and morose. His feelings from deep down within his soul Could only be expressed by his brush, his goal. To show how he hurt and affected was he He painted the guitarist, the one that could not see. A blind beggar stooped and cold, a guitar in his hands Not strumming just there, muted background looking bland Muted colours of blue that makes one feel so cold Of the half staved, freezing guitarist, that looks terribly old. The oil tends to blend on the panel lacking some colour To express his heart weary soul, his colours ever duller The guitarist is stretched, elongated, looks almost dead All the feeling of Picasso in his life, this picture said. Look at me, I am starved of love money and bread No colour in my life, perhaps I am better off with the dead. A reflection on the times on society way back then The hopeless, the wretched, Pablo caught with his pen. On the bland background of blue, a guitar painted dull brown The guitar in his hands, the player blind with a sad frown Was he a symbol that the blind have inner vision yet can see The dejection, the poverty, the misery of times lost on you and me. His period of blue lasted three long years before it was then spent He changed his style with his moods as his emotions were pent A poor artist who suffered with his moods as we all can do He expressed them with pen and brush, much the same as me and you. © 23/01/2013 Contest Entry. The Old Guitarist By Pablo Picasso