the artist
I am the artist, I create where there is never been, my inspiration is my lifevisual thought or pleasure look upon my work I think, I feel, beyond the realm that's real, a painting a sculpture a song of the night the artist within
the passion of right,practice practice until it is done, because I alone am the only one, who is my own worst critic not part of the fun.
some days there is no art within I project my thoughts, and try to begin
I sit and stare into space take walk and try to gain some fuel
to again use my tool, a creation is at near as the tip of my hand, I will make
a form for people to gaze, A critical rundown on the artwork made.
but all disappointments, creations, practice and love from critics to people who don"t know what your of,
when the piece is finished A step back to see the ending result of what my work is meant to be.
Ive created something that was not there, from my thoughts to a finished
ware,my heart is happy,its mine alone, to share, to give to get a smile or two
look i"ve made this for you.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.