Broken Art Poem by Yvonne Rautenbach
Broken Art
Beloved tools unstirred
They are strangers
Brushes, pencils, pens
Erased from my picture
Daily I glance at them and mutter
'When I have time - another year
Perhaps another life.'
Where did time go?
Drawn away with my breaths?
My heart rigid in a pencil box
My soul embalmed in oils
My body dried like tempura
Smiling weakly like a Madonna
without a Child.
Definitely going in my favorites, and I keep out the riffraff. There are cleaver lines here, the best I’ve read today and I’ve read a lot today. The ending is memorable.
I cherish the beautiful sentiments you express so well in your poem. wishes with best intentions, arya
art is never a stranger to me it is life to me, art is never broken it is alway beauty even if it come ut nothing,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 2:53:04 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Good thoughts. I know the feeling.