*I Am an Artist (school assignment 9th)
I am an artist,
but I’m not a painter.
I’m not one who makes a canvas beautiful,
but my smock and face a mess.
Who has to spend hours
playing in those sticky paints
and standing with an aching back
just to make one scene,
that doesn’t even move!
No, I’m not a painter,
but I am an artist.
The stage is my canvas,
my lines my painting brush,
my emotions replace those foul paints
and my completed work is still a scene.
But my art is so much more
than an image that’s been frozen.
It moves, it breathes, it sings and dances
it makes you laugh and cry.
It weeds its way into you,
takes root as you walk away.
It becomes a part of you
and never goes away.
A painting though?
One glance and you’re done.
It doesn’t stay with you.
It’s cold and unmoving.
Just hanging on the wall,
staring at you.
So no, I’m not a painter.
I am an artist,
but in the art of acting.
(This was an assignment from my English teacher and he told my class to write a poem about anything, but to try to be different; no clichés. This is certainly new for me, since I’m new to theater. I want to say though, that this isn’t my view of paintings, they are moving and I’ve been moved by them, but I desperately wanted the contrast in this. I know that I could have said that I’m an artist because of my words, but I really wanted to make amends for what I said in my other poem “DRAMA! ? ! ” because I’m really good at it and I really like it. I’ve never been so happy to be wrong before because it’s been one of the best experiences of my life.)
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