Tag: Artists

You Must

It is you who must care
for no one else will
Waiting for a congratulatory
hand on your shoulder
you’ll be waiting still
when the earth consumes
your abandoned frame
Hear me, artists!
Ye small gods of creation
Though none may approve
you must do what you do
and unburden your soul

Tenterhooked

It is the curse of
artists and poets
to be driven
beyond reason
by some
unseen force, to be
helplessly coerced
into attempting to contain
the very essence of
nature and the gods themselves
in tightly laced straitjackets
of lines and rhymes, to stop time
and twist the formless into
crude word forms.
Words!
To think that
my poor language
could contain
the majesty
of what my eyes see,
that they could convey
the power of my dreams,
that the absurdity of
“green”
could grasp the
heart of Spring!
It is madness
but I must try.
The relentless
fire inside
me rises
and must be
freed
lest it
consume me.
No, there is
no hope
for poets –
we are not
our own