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The Artist, poetry by Leon Gregori
Updated: Jul 5, 2023
A prompt piece about sadness, and the consuming feeling that it is. The Artist represents me and my feelings as if painted on a canvas.
"We are all artists, painting our lives upon the canvas of reality. Mix the colors your own way and apply emotion liberally. Don't be afraid to let your brushstrokes show, and above all else, make sure your art has soul" - Cristen Rodgers
Written in November 2020
Sitting
Surmising
My mind being frightening
Like a belt tightening
Around my neck
This isn't exciting
There isn't any lighting
The sadness is coming
I feel like running
Yet the dark is cunning
My legs are heavy
Like bricks on my feet
I guess I'm going nowhere
So it is time to meet
The internal motors
That spark and clash
Rip and smash
Here is my interpretation
My deepest sensation
My lungs are heavy
There is no challenge
And no expectation
I sense I know why
I keep feeling this way
How I look to avoid
The hardest thing
I've ever had to do
To lose my feelings
Of love for you
I've longed for what we had
Dreamt of good and bad
My heart goes begging
I lusted for the emotion
Desired the commotion
The feelings that inspired
That dizziness
Isn't painless
It's the torture of my heart
Like an art
This love
It messed with my insides
Like a tray of paint
Mixed up and colourful
Reds greys and yellows
Blues and greens
The joyous wonder
The darkening screams
All those hopes
Laid to waste
Time to be emptied
Gone is the taste
The potential
The drama
All things karma
My spirits dampen
As my heart fades to black
The artist has left us
Our canvas unfinished
The picture is open
But thought has diminished
Printed forever
We will no longer be
Our pitch cut off
From reaching its ending
And whilst I think of this
My heart is so torn
It feels like my tapestry
Just stopped in its tracks
And the painting is there
The structure and foundation
But the sky is unfinished
And the house half built
Like a bankrupt fighter
It leaves much to be desired
Everything it hoped for
Deep in the mire
The mess is clear
The solution not so
The artist behind the painting
Where did he go
And so there we are
Left unfinished
The applicators broken
There is no more to write
Or paint
Or glow
Or reach its potential
Just no
And hard memories plentiful
The only hope now
Is for a brand new canvas
To manifest itself
Be born from life's atlas
The world is still here
Despite all my fears
I must top up my ink
Empty my tears
Refill my pots
Regain my strength
If I can do that
I can make more sense
This sadness has owned me
Thrown off my game
I have to release this
Or forever stay the same
© Leon Gregori 2023
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