I Want To Prostitute My Art Poem by akram saqib

1
My hungry wife told
Rebuffed and scold
About that masterpiece
Which did wealth increase,
People do not know,
But come in a row,
Watch this lovely painting,
Top it in ranking,
Scene of love depicted,
Without feelings restricted,
Hugging swans in the lake,
Blossoming flower in the back,
The rosy cheeks and red lips,
Curving for beautiful kiss,
But oh! The powers divine,
Now it is not mine,
I sold it for bread,
Hungry children and dread! !
The name of a mediocre embossed,
Of the creator forever crossed,
II
What a beautiful marvelous piece,
Reflects glory of ancient Greece,
What a wonderful sculptor!
That is giving off luster,
Who did that, tell me who?
Name of sculptor, look into,
The poor and hungry artist,
Was made to sell his wrist,
The wealthiest of our city,
Made this piece praise worthy,
The lands that had trimmed wet soil
Are folded empty like a coil,

III
O what a lovely show,
Like the after shower bow,
Colors mixed and discriminate,
Enough glowing more hibernates,
Hundred days did it take?
Streams of sweats did it make
The mind that thought these lines
Is constrained to prostitute thine,
He was made to prostitute his art,
To fill up stomach, keep away dart,
Running like the spinning wheel,
To get only two times meal,
Millionaire is cashing his name,
Against few pennies getting fame,
IV
The adulation and admiration,
Goes to those who are in possession,
Riches bounties and coffers are,
The today’s artists only power,
That is why I have decide,
To get the wagon to ride,
That is running with out passions,
And has renamed art the prostitution,