No Artistic Talent

A strange canvas, a youth with a bruised eye sitting in a carriage,
The painter had captured no emotion at all,
In fact it wasn't a good painting, an effort of little artistic talent,
The watercolour was of an English village art show standard,
The type of painting you pass by without a second thought,
But why the bruised eye, who was this boy?
I was drawn back to the painting,
I looked closer at the painters subject,
His eye was the attraction,
I felt disturbed, his pain danced out at me,
I blushed, I felt my face redden,
I needed fresh air,

People kept looking at me on the underground,
I caught a reflection of myself in the train window,
My black eye looked back at me with no emotion at all,
I had been framed.

Poetry by Mick Bean
Read 342 times
Written on 2016-09-14 at 23:37

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Best poem I have read in a while.


Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
A very profound poem showing our disassociation and reassociation in a painting. As a metaphor or as a poem this is excellent.

Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
This took my breath away. How do I explain my reaction, the deep feeling and understanding, with words?
Flashbacks stimulated by a painting, poetically revealed, cause echoes through the mind.