The Great Artists Poem by Dominic Windram

The Great Artists

Rating: 5.0


The great artists pass through this life
Like stars of different seasons;
Like comets that span the centuries;
Like broken messiahs bloodied by doubt;
Like flowers barely surviving in frost.
They have a primal need and purpose,
To reveal the glory of their gifts,
As they patiently carve out precious forms,
From the marble and stone of their dreams.
Yet they are rarely comprehended,
Or regarded, until long after their deaths;
In a world content to live amidst shadows.

The Great Artists
Saturday, December 16, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: artistic work
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Mahnaz.M 02 March 2018

Yes indeed. It takes time for great artists to become famous.

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Michael Hopkins 21 June 2022

so true

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Michael Hopkins 13 February 2021

Sometimes, I think that this interest after death is a way to fully profit from their works rather than pay a commission to the artist. Theivery in my eyes.

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Chinedu Dike 06 September 2020

Very powerfully and movingly crafted in persuasive poetic expressions with conviction. Well conceived, insightful and thought provoking.

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Sylvia Frances Chan 08 October 2019

Thank you for your advice to read The Great Artist. I have enjoyed as much as you did when you created this. Thanks for having advised me.

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Dominic Windram 08 October 2019

No problem Sylvia. I intend to look at some more of your poems...looking forward to reading them!

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Sylvia Frances Chan 08 October 2019

This added Self-portrait painting of Vincent van Gogh by the poem was painted by himseld at times when he was sane enough to paint, since he was an alchoholist through and through. IF you live in his time you will never be friends with him, because of his dirty clothes and odor of his body, all not good for your nose. He was just a clouchard as we say that today. He was not recognized as a painter, even in the neighbourhood where he lived.

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Dominic Windram 08 October 2019

Thanks Sylvia for providing me with this pertinent information. My German friends tell me that Schubert also suffered from illness and extreme poverty. It's a sad state of affairs when one ponders the lives of these highly creative figures. It does seem that, in terms of the human condition, creativity and destruction often go hand in hand

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