A Poetic Essay on The Essence of Art

Art is a living breathing

Writhing and moaning

Shouting and muttering

Beckoning life force

That draws you ever closer

To tell you

It’s endless secrets
There is art in the commonplace

Banal obscurity

There is hushed abstraction

Even in the rhythm of routine
The extraordinary can bore

The pretentious glory

Of overthinking

Can fall Insipid

If your heart is not in

The brush, the pen, the medium
But then there are those 


Captured so transiently

When the extraordinary

Explodes to.light up the sky

And fades leaving only 

traces behind

As you wish you could

Etch them on your skin
What is art?

A mask?

A drawing?

A poem?

Define it and your tongue

Will become tied

Because true artistry

Is not

In the eye of the beholder
Art is known not when

You see it

But when you feel it

When you close your eyes

And you can feel that 

As if your body could dance to 


As if your eyes struck blind

Would never forget

Art is not simply beauty

It is to reflect

It is to feel revolted

It is to feel as if it tears and rips

At every belief


In any form has teeth
To me art is what makes you feel

What makes you believe

Art never lets

You forget

It only hides in your heart


2 comments on “A Poetic Essay on The Essence of Art

  1. Gwen Burson says:

    This is wonderful. One of the best. It says it so well and leaves you hanging on every word to see what comes next. It does what you said…it makes you feel.

    Liked by 1 person

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