A Painter’s Lament

Placing the brush down

it sits inert on the easel shelf

as the canvas stands inert

closing the eyes

searching

for that calm spot

searching

for that place

where colours reside

searching

for that moment

when it all went away

there is too much chaos

that can’t be given shape

that can’t be revealed

nor can it be erased

this blockage

has become a burden

happening deep inside

spreading its gnarled

tentacles of dread

yet the desire

to express is alive

and pulsing like a heart

outside the window

the light is perfect

but it can’t reach

the place I stand

and release me

from this nothingness

that afflicts me

weeks go by

nights slowly unfold

jars remain tightly closed

and white canvas surfaces

mock

Author's Note

Break on through to the other side
~ Jim Morrison

Reviews

[MCS]

Thank you for visiting and sharing your comments
I say take back your paints and create

[J.R.H.]

I loved this. I go through to it too. My sons use my paint more than I do.

Anyways, thanks man! Good stuff!

[Relic]

I read poems like this and I don't understand why 20 people didn't want to review. This is a perfect representation of a desire that can't find the freedom it seeks. The painter, by nature pulls life from another dimension into this one. He makes landscapes surreal enough to wander through. To be unable to find that liberation is like being locked in a mental prison. I like the way you wrote this a lot. Great job.

[MCS]

Thank you dear poet
Your comment means a lot to me

[Relic]

You're quite welcome.