Monday, June 19, 2006

Empty: the lonely artist

each word
a tiny piece of the puzzle
irregular edges
that somehow form
the picture
only I can see

each verse
a thread in the tapestry
woven together
by a skilled mind
and vivid

each stroke
of the mental brush
on metaphorical canvas
highlights perfect use
of color
and innate sense
of wonder

each form
the void





C said...

I love this - I can see myself here. I guess it's kind of like an addiction, this writing thing...feels great at the time, but then you have to write another, and another, to keep the feeling going. Sanity in a keyboard... :)

Day Dreamer said...

That is so true. It's like a short lived drug for the hungry soul.

Arundhati said...

You know what? What I am on my blog lets me be what I am in real life...If not for my writing, the masks I wear in real life would have chafed at my skin!

Good work day dreamer and thanks for coming by my blog..

Oliviah said...

I operate in a fragmented sort of way where all forms of art are concerned.

I can only write during specific random times & then it is OVER. ('till the next time comes around, whenever that is.) I can sketch only during random periods of times, the same with floral design, making fractals & every other form of art that I use. It's unpredictable and somewhat maddening. I know when it is "time" to use a particular outlet & then I run with it & when the time is up, I stop. If it isn't the "right time", it is forced, it sucks & I hate it. I'm not sure why I am like this. It sometimes frustrates me. I see it as limitations and wonder if it is self-imposed.

But I realized that even though my art is expressed in such varied ways and unpredictable times--the expression itself never ceases.

Only the form of art changes. Maybe that is not a bad thing.