Kevin East

Rookie - 0 Points (22 April 1954 / Amersham bucks)

The Artist

Touching his canvas like a kiss
Soft and lingering
Or tantalizingly brief Is his brush
A baton conducting unfinished silent symphony.
As nomadic wind
Always refused to sit and pose.

Mixed in the palette
To be released
Like a caged song bird
To carol so sweetly again.
From that dark room of his mind
He grew a flower
That will never die.
Though the stolen scent
Will remain with his lost love
Along with moonlit rapture
In her eye.

As she haunts his masterpiece
In her flowing gown
Cascading of white
Under that chandelier
That he called starry night.
When his sanity finally faded
And desperation invaded
That troubled soul.
Black cloud marauded
As thunder applauded
Mocking the wonder of swirling pain.
As heaven's tears
Did masquerade as rain.

Submitted: Saturday, September 24, 2011
Edited: Wednesday, August 01, 2012


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Comments about this poem (The Artist by Kevin East )

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  • Rookie Silentpoet Grl (12/30/2011 4:08:00 AM)

    You painted a vivid picture with your words - wonderful poem! The last four lines though are my favorite! ! (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 15 Points Tsira Gogeshvili (9/26/2011 5:07:00 AM)

    Touching his canvas like a kiss
    Soft and lingering
    Very beautiful pleasant poem, Kevin.... almost intimate relations of the artist with his job ...

    Tsira (Report) Reply

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