Unfinished Masterpiece


I was asked if I believe in true love, 

I was asked, how do I know it's real? 

My answer is yes, 

I truly believe it can be real,

But I really don't know. 

It's something I've never got to feel. 

I've had sweet lies, 

And stories told about happy endings that never happen. 

But me? 

I'm just out here with my easel and paints, 

Setting up camp with broken souls, 

The ones I think will look beautiful,

Painted next to my own bruised and damaged soul, 

And painting blindly, 

Hoping to create a masterpiece. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I'm not sure if this is done yet ...... 

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Pungus's picture

I enjoyed this one deeply in

I enjoyed this one deeply in all its expressiveness of a tempered and tamed emotional state.. brava!

I never dreamed what it would be like

To cherish a creative son -Imagination

justshan1983's picture

Thank you!

Thank you, I am so glad you enjoyed it! 

S74rw4rd's picture

Setting up camp with broken

Setting up camp with broken souls . . .  I have been reading poems for nearly half a century---it will be fifty years as of next month---and that phrase is one of the most brilliant I have encountered in a long, long time.  The poem itself is very good, and applaud the way it concludes with a metaphor about art.  But that eleventh line---that spectacular, tremendous eleventh line---is a power unto itself.

Starward (S74w4rd in 1337)

justshan1983's picture

Thank you so much!

Wow! Thank you so much, that really means so much to me!