Poem #3 – The Starving Artist

What if your pen and pad were all you had

No money, no home;  just you and your thoughts alone

While sitting on a stool in an empty room; would you concentrate on your impending doom

As angry groans from your belly reveal; that you know not from whence will come your next meal

Would you beg, borrow, and steal; or would you write about it in order to heal

What if your voice was your only choice

No family or friends to consider your pain; as you stand outside alone in the rain

Wondering if anyone will have the guts to care; as they continue walking past, only stopping to stare

Helplessly you shiver, overcome with your fears; as drops from the sky mix in with your tears

Would you allow suffering silence to shield you from all that is wrong; or would you defiantly sing out as a way to fight back and be strong

What if  your only means of sight; came from touching and hearing – not from light

No blue, green, yellow, blue, or pink; only notes and rhythm in sync

 Enshrouded by pitch blackness, unable to escape; moving forward in time, counting each step that you take

Birds become melodies, strong winds harmonize; every sound that is near makes you realize

The use of your hands on wood and strings; brings you out of the darkness, uncovering all things

What if we all were willing to share; our gifts with everyone – here and there

No homelessness, no loneliness, no darkness for the blind

Pens, pads, voices, notes and rhythm, all working together in time

What would this world be like if these were all we were required to give

Would you keep it all for yourself, or provide for others to live

Home Lifestyles

%d bloggers like this: