canvas

seventeen

 

in my room the sun is almost setting,

flushing watercolors up against the sky.

 

stained with dark red, unnecessary brushstrokes —

the canvas’s staying blank,

transparent in its innocence

and

ignorance,

and

pierced right through,

 

done nothing wrong.

the artist is the one to blame.

 

who in his fury came

and ripped apart what felt like soul,

 

the vagueness of a home.

keep chasing —

 

the canvas’s staring blank

 

as shadows in my room grow bigger.

 

[is it some sand i’m tasting on my tongue?

or is it what a victory feels like?]

  • Author: 17 (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 22nd, 2023 16:09
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 10
  • Users favorite of this poem: Bobby O
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Comments +

Comments2

  • Bobby O

    A really interesting and introspective piece that held my interest and was compelled to immediately reread it.
    “artist…to blame “ “ripped…what felt like soul “ and though that canvas is blank , I’m feeling that it represents an undaunted survival to cheer and to boldly say this sand on my tongue means in here and it’s a celebration and it might as well be honey. Freaking really really nice and I’m a big fan.

    • seventeen

      i just looove reading your interpretations!!
      thank you so much, i’m glad you liked it

      • Bobby O

        Dig. If you like hip hop maybe read or watch the one piece I’ve presented with a video
        Titled
        THELONIUS REBORN AS THE DEE OH DOUBLE G.

        https://mypoeticside.com/show-poem-163174

      • Thomas W Case

        Brilliant...nice use of space and time to move the piece.

        • seventeen

          wow, i’m super excited that you noticed that!! thank you, dear friend

          • Thomas W Case

            You are welcome.



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