This was inspired by Tim Smiths’ poem by the same GREAT name, and by a recent poem by Seren Roberts called "moment" Two very talented poets that have provided me with many revelations without a numbers afterwards!
The easel beholds a half finishing painting The paints beside have all hardened Pain reflected in the partial emptiness Staring back at that gathered crowd The sun melts on the canvas page Creation explained in elapsed rage Notions and pleas from dried paintbrushes Strewn across the almost barren floor One to the other in whispered voice I wonder if this would have been his choice? Empty wine bottles twirling in light Beside the dead body, a painting just right There lies Art In repose His final painting His last prose
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
