Benny

Life is a maddening canvas
where colors run
where they wish,
at mercy to one who holds
unseen visions.
I cannot help but wonder
if some buyer
really waits?
Some paintings never sell
till death's door
opens wide.

I am tired of finger painting
this wrinkled leather
clinging to me,
pulled in every direction
by every force
under this moon.
I long for a new clean canvas
where the mind's eye
strikes smooth strokes,
where my vision is clear for me
to birth rainbows
across my skies.

KingAce

This poem was very good...I like the entire set up of life being like a canvas and the poem seeming to be like you're just continuously painting new things, It provides an excellent mind visual because you can see this painter defining there life as all these different paintings on the canvas and taking notice that some artists never get the recognition until they are deceased which is really sad because they never get to see their painting go anywhere and if you're painting for that recognition and don't recieve it then it'll seem like a waist of time and an overall lost art; Thank You

erikestabrook

cool poem, The metaphors were good and a really good work