To my friend the artist

 

The pen dances across 

    the page - darkness at it's every wake;

The innocent white passes 

    away - it's blood spills black and gray.

A girl wields, this weapon 

    of art - posture serene and still;

The pen dances at her

    will - to her tune it twirls and sways.

She pauses the pen to 

    view the spill, on the plain of white;

Then resumes again her 

    masterpiece - as the pen takes flight!

At last she sighs and turns 

    to reveal - a most charming sketch

I nod and listen as 

    she speaks - her face filled with delight.

I strive to notice the 

    subtleties - hidden between the lines.

But though I pretend to 

    comprehend - my flaws I cannot hide.   

For as the pen observes,

    it is not fooled by my disguise.

It knows that I am lost

    that - I'm forever lost in her smile.

Theresa. V

This poem has got to be one among my favorites! I got the idea of personifying an artist's tools whilst watching my dear friend P sketching a face during class today. I tried to portray the paper as a being that has to sacrifice itself for the pen(cil)'s marks to show - the blood of the paper being the 'mark' of the pen(cil).

Right when the idea occurred to me - P showed me the sketch with such a pleased smile, that I could not help but feel the need to capture that special moment. 

So many times I've had artist friends (like P, S and cupboard) show me their sketches and I have always wanted to bottle up their expression of humble accomplishment. I wanted to show artists how much we (their friends) love them. I do hope this poem does justice to all artists as well as to the feelings of us 'the audience'.  

Do let me know your thoughts in the comments!

❤Tess.