When she was an artist
She painted faces
Only faces
Many altogether
All of them sideways
Not spots or stains
On the other side
What did she want to hide?
When she was an artist
She wrote
The most confusing poems
Only she could understand
Nobody gave a damn
When she was an artist
She knew
How little she knew
And how much
So much more than the others
When she wrote
Her only way to clean
Such thoughts of love
Which didn’t exist
When she was an artist
She was too young
When she grew older
So old and wise
Did not hide anymore
Now she knew how
Decided to paint
Those faces again
And see what
There she found out.
© Dulce....................................................................................................................................................................................Image> Don't look Sideways (Deviantart)
16 comments:
This could be about me. I wrote when I was young, then stopped, then took it up again in 2006. I wonder what I'll come up with? ;-)
Hugs, Dulce.
And did she find out something interesting?
Long Overdue
I think we write first for ourselves, and sometimes we share it.
Expressions of the soul, that is art.
Sometimes we don't understand, sometimes it is clear.
beautiful feelings Dulce!
Besos:)
I agree with all of the above.
so beautiful, I express better when I am sad or hurt on paper, I would love to try painting, another ART of expression.Maybe its an easy escape. I feel at times, things that comforted me starts to shackle my presence.
Is it writer's BLOCK!!
LOve this and the PHOTO sweet ONE
Really beautiful...
beautiful my friend. At least she picked it up again :) Excellent my friend :)
Hey Dulce! It is ALWAYS good to read your thoughts, especially now since I am beginning to understand the poetry.
Baby, you should NEVER have to hide...no blemishes can mar the beauty of your lovely soul!
And you have learned to paint with those meaningful words, not of your own Spanish tongue.
Now you are suddenly "so old and so wise?" Well, I'll think about that, but not for more than a minute.
Again, thank you for your work, which rates right up there with the best of the bloggers we know.
Love and Peace for you, Dulce!
Really amazing poem. Reminds me of our Pessoa "The Poet is a pretender..." Or our beloved and missed Freddy Mercury. To pretend a reality that is a reality indeed. Hard to get it. Brilliant.
My dear friend,
Your words are amazing...for some reason I can feel you are discribing yourself through this poem...Am I right? wonderful work...keep it up!
LOVE and PEACE!
To be older, bolder and forever creative. This is beautiful, amiga! :)
Brilliant poet you are, so glad you are sharing it with us!
Thank you, Dulce, for your thoughtful comments on my posts. I appreciate your warm regards and kindness. Much love to you :)
Dulce- you speak another language that I've been taught.A new shade of colour to understanding. I enjoy the ride. I think we all get to this place eventually where the hiding becomes a thing of the past. ~rick
Yes, a woman finding her voice in the world! Self-expression...
lovely work, Dulce!
Beautiful write. When we start writing, it's like baby steps. We paint pictures in our head and trace them on paper. As years go by, the pictures become larger...we get to see what we really need to see. We then look at things deeper. Our painting gets brighter/larger, with beautiful colours. Keep writing!
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