I have a rendezvous with the artist .
Sometimes you come late at night
or too early life ...
you often have nothing to say to me,
except boredom and rain .
So we stay here ,gathering the flowers of the hours.
You step down from your star with the air
of a nonchalant Persian ,solar wind plenipotentiary...
Inspired whim that knows not where it comes from,
or what form it will take ...
I listen to you without laughing when you explain to me
just how serious your foolishness is ...
Do you think to be a poet ?
You're just a dancer balancing on a tightrope
of pastels and pastiches ...
Painting your lyrics in so many Babel blue
that I get lost in them.
Do you think to be a philosopher ?
Maybe just a spell caster and a seducer .
you call me, all confused ,telling :
'' Don't come ! Today I'm in love until tonight ! ''
Always that old story I pretend to believe !
In the springtime of passion fruit ,
you always dream of autumnal melancholy...
I have a rendezvous with this artist who's
been bullying me ...
and to whom I don't know how to say '' Go away ! ''
But do I want really to shackle myself
with the chains of this freedom ?
Once again,I will be there to the rendezvous
with this artist living in me ...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 29th, 2026 10:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell, sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments3
flows beautifully
It's a bit like all of our story !
much enjoyed my friend
A graceful confession of the burden of talent. Creativity is not only a blessing, but an inevitable cohabitation with the eccentric being within oneself.
Here is a pertinent and sensitive analysis !
This one I see in pastels of pink and blues with just a hint of green. It is a sunset or sunrise depending on what side of the bed you get out of. Nicely done Lorenz and a fave
It perfectly captures the musical tone of my text !
Colored music is always the best
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