~ Brush Strokes

~ Brush Strokes

A poet needs a model,
As sure as artist's brush.
We need not pay commission,
For the world will sit for us.
Our tools are simple and they're free-
A knowing heart and sympathy.
Yet these are bought at a dear price-
The pains and sufferings of life.
We paint the lines in a mother's face
Or the twinkling in an eye.
We sketch the history of a race
Or the creed of men who die.

Our easels have no preference
For light or shade or sheen.
Our models need not hold a pose;
We sketch the changing scene.
We write about the ugly;
We write about the fair,
And every time we turn our heads,
We find new subjects there-
The tinkling shades of laughter,
The restful shades of green.
And yet each line will bear a trace
Of everything we've seen.

I wrote it to a picture-
I wrote it to a song.
I wrote it to an old man
Shuffling along.
I wrote it to a garden-
I wrote it to a leaf.
I wrote it to an anguished cry-
I wrote it to relief.
I wrote it to an artist-
I wrote it to a sage.
And every time I lift my eyes,
There stands another page.

by Adeline Foster

Comments (34)

Lovely and most certainly, my pleasure to read! Dorothy alves Holmes
Very effective use of repetition (anaphora) -'I wrote'. Profound thoughts.
beautifully expressed vocation of a poet, of a particular poets and of the seen and unseen kind army of poets throughout all generations. It is such a wondrous relief to read this and know that a contemporary poet has written this. This way of looking at and loving and writing poetry seems almost forgotten in the general landscape of poetry now. Thank You!
Bloomin perfect. You got it down to a tee. Brilliant is this piece of work I thank you for sharing this, I smiled all the way through it because above and beyond everything there will always be another page waiting to be filled with such a talent, in every poet.
I am very glad to read this poem. Good ink! Excellent narrated. So, take my heartiest thanks dearest poet Adeline Foster. Be well always.
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