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The Artist and The Scholar
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The Love Once upon a time, a man loved a woman. Her emotions were the Atlantic during a hurricane. Caught in her wind and waves, The Scholar tried to make sense of the chaos.
The Artist painted pictures of a man who loved a woman.
His resolve to an admirable code of conduct spoke monuments in the paintbrush strokes of reality.
Her colors bled together so she couldn’t see the image anymore.
The Scholar ran out of explanations for why the storm wouldn’t stop.
It was sink or swim.
She tossed her easel into the storm.
He sat down in the middle of the street, hands covering his face.
She tossed her paints at the wall.
He watched the easel blow past him.
All that was left was a mural
Of a man who loved a woman
Even while both were bleeding.
Very few poets leave me
Very few poets leave me speechless with awe because, at my age, that sort of thing doesn't usually work any more. But you have done so. I feel like I am a freshman at college again reading not only just a poem new to me, but at a time when all poetry seemed new.
Starward