The Light was gone,
Now Darkness prevailed;
When briefly it had flickered,
True Beauty (had it) entailed.
His passion was gone,
But not his pain;
The Artist was dead,
In all but name.
For years on end,
He yearned, he tried,
To find what he had lost...
What he had been denied.
But, alas, 'twas in vain,
For his Muse had fled,
Far across the Ocean,
To the Land of the Dead.
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Author:
ag91 (
Offline) - Published: November 5th, 2016 18:59
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
Offline)
Comments2
WELCOME AG (chemical symbol for SILVER) tThanks for sharing your first poem. All Artists need a muse to make them better painters ~ and they are often Lovers ! Often when a Artist loses His (or Her) perfect Muse teir art is never the same again.. When th muse dies it is the Art that dies with it not the Artist. This is the essence of your elegant poem. Love the structure and the rhyme pattern which gives the Poem flow ! Good verbal content as well. Thanks for sharing ~ Please check my poems ~ Yours BRIAN
Welcome to the site! I love the cadence of your poem. Sad poem but still beautiful.
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