the mind of a painter

[ahsiam]

she leaves through the door of darkness
complaining about the world being like a sponge
erasing the darkness and soaking up the light
"isnt that alright?", they would ask-
"what would the blistered pig know about being holy"-she thought
but never answered...
she painted the path with no house
painted the nude man with no stroking muscle
painted the girl with no urgency of sanity...
they never understood her mind
they hated her-spurned her
"what would the one legged dog know about peace"-she thought
but never answered...
her deep eyes x-rayed through the strangers' eyes
and she found void...
living there was just enough for them
they were never there to be transformed
she was never there to reveal
it was the constancy -
of a motion,she could never accept..
it was a different language she spoke
distant chamber she lived
where only being there was not enough.


-maliha maisha rahman

[PrinceMyshkin]

This is an amazing poem, an astonishing poem. I regret, on your behalf, that it hasn't yet had the acknowledgment/responses it deserves. How deeply you give yourself to your elusive subject!

PS The font you've chosen makes it a bit difficult to read. Maybe that's why you've had so few responses.

[Hawkman]

she leaves through the door of darkness
complaining about the world being like a sponge
erasing the darkness and soaking up the light
"isnt that alright?", they would ask-
"what would the blistered pig know about being holy"-she thought *
but never answered...
she painted the path with no house
painted the nude man with no stroking muscle
painted the girl with no urgency of sanity...
they never understood her mind
they hated her-spurn her **
"what would the one legged dog know about peace"-she thought ***
but never answered...
her deep eyes x-rayed through the strangers' eyes
and she found void...
living there was just enough for them
they were never there to be tranformed
she was never there to reveal
it was the constancy -
of a motion,she could never accept..
it was a different language she spoke
distant chamber she lived ****
where only being there was not enough.

ahsiam

Prince is right it is a powerful piece but I do have a few comments.

* the vehemence of the unspoken thought directed seemingly at a specific individual when the preceeding statement only refers to a vague they which would suggest more than one person. perhaps there is a typo and it should be pigs.

** again a typo I think, would make more sense as: "They hated her, spurned her"

*** I don't understand who this thought is directed at.

**** This would make more sense (to me at least) as, "a distant chamber she lived in"

This is an immensly powerful poem all the same, depicting the artist's strive to communicate abstract perception to an unreceptive audience. Good Stuff. H

[hillwalker]

This is a remarkable poem - rather like an abstract painting.

I sense with Hawk the frustration of the artist - striving to depict what he/she sees but failing to adequately communicate with his/her 'audience'.

Some of the allusions 'blistered pig' and 'one-legged dog' made me think of Breughel or Bosch - but perhaps specifics are best avoided where ths poem is concerned.

Immensely enjoyable.

H

[Lumiere]

I'm not sure what it's about - but what a thing of beauty you've created!

[breathtest]

very interesting subject to write about i thought, and i also very well written. I like the obscure imagery, such as the 'blistered pig' and the 'one legged dog'.

[ahsiam]

thanks everyone for your valuable comments... :)

@prince Like always you made my day by posting a comment.. :D
Its wonderful to know you liked it.Its going to be a great inspiration for me.
And i think you were right about the font..i changed it :)


@hawk The "spurned" was a typo but the "pig" wasnt i guess..
and may be i couldnt make the style clear but i meant "distant chamber she lived" like "it was a different language she spoke" giving the two lines same view.
And here by "they" i meant to ordinary people who doesnt understand a painters' mind...

i am really thankful for the way you took your time to describe my problems. :)

[Bar22do]

she leaves through the door of darkness
complaining about the world being like a sponge
erasing the darkness and soaking up the light
"isnt that alright?", they would ask-
"what would the blistered pig know about being holy"-she thought
but never answered...
she painted the path with no house
painted the nude man with no stroking muscle
painted the girl with no urgency of sanity...
they never understood her mind
they hated her-spurned her
"what would the one legged dog know about peace"-she thought
but never answered...
her deep eyes x-rayed through the strangers' eyes
and she found void...
living there was just enough for them
they were never there to be transformed
she was never there to reveal
it was the constancy -
of a motion,she could never accept..
it was a different language she spoke
distant chamber she lived
where only being there was not enough.


-maliha maisha rahman

To me it's a poem about difficult though rich, blessed solitude, about the absolute intransigent surrender to Art, to Gift. About life in its fullest - no matter the cost, no matter the lack of impact. What a poem.

I only wonder, what the ordinary people soak the light with... with empty being?
And a question - why should she complain? SHE KNOWS, indeed, that the greater the artist the less understanding for him/her...
Otherwise - admirable, and whatever might be worthwhile trimming or revising, the irreplaceable B/V's skills will surely provide!
Best regards and thanks - Bar

[MorpheusSandman]

Honestly, that font and color is really hard on my eyes; which aren't really great to begin with! I quite like the piece though and would love to echo Bar's comments.

[tailor STATELY]

Remarkable poem.

Thank you.

[MorpheusSandman]

Ah! My eyes thank you!