Meditation On An Artist

He painted men with long beards and missing teeth,
bent women with canes,
lonely children walking through meadows
on their way back home.
At night, he would study each shade,
each shadow of their lives
in the ramshackle cabin
he inherited from his father.
Sometimes he said he could feel them
guding the brush,
hear their voices singing
to the starry night.
Ah, to hear him hum
when the shapes, colors, and moods on the canvas
captured a bit of what it means to be human,
all too human.

Meditation On An Artist

DarrellBasho

Joined January 2008

  • Artist
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free verse

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