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 JohnJohn
Read 751 times
Written on 2016-09-14 at 23:37




Bibek |
|
![]() |
Kathy Lockhart |
Texts |
by JohnJohnLatest textsGet a grip (part two)Smash me please Close the door No Idea The £1 shop |

