The Forgotten Artist Poem by Patricia Denise Newman

The Forgotten Artist

Rating: 5.0

He sits alone 'most every night
watching in the firelight,
his useless hands lie on his knee
lifeless, white deformity.
His once keen eye, now dulled with age
roams round the walls of his mental cage.
The heavy silence in the room
is reminiscent of the womb
from which his once artistic soul
burst open like the flaming coal.
Iridescent flames now form
the pictures that he'd once have drawn.

Time means little to him now-
the urgent need and furrowed brow
forgotten relics of his past
the portraits and the views outlast
the hands that once with patient skill
transformed the canvases at will.
The pride and fame are now all gone
and he is left to linger on.
No-one comes near or hears his sighs
or sees the heartache in his eyes.
The world moves on its frantic pace
shadows moving round his face.

Memories of my late father who was unable to continue painting and writing following eye surgery.
Michael Cochrane 17 May 2023

Very heartfelt poem, showing a deep understanding of how you remember your father's difficulties in losing his gifts. Remember your dad is two steps ahead of you and one day in the next world you will be reunited. God bless you.

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Dr Dillip K Swain 17 May 2023

Great poetry! I appreciate the prudent comment of poet David. Top score.

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LeeAnn Azzopardi 17 May 2023

Beautiful tribute to a dearly loved father Bravo!

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David Wood 17 May 2023

Sad but beautiful portrait of an artist ravaged by medical conditions. It is almost my autobiography too, as I used to paint and play clarinet too, but arthritis got the upper hand. I hope it make Poem of the Day, it deserves to.

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