Starving Artist...

Another poem inspired by and dedicated to Nancy Elizabeth Prophet, the sculptress from my poem "Ode to the Artist" (link down below). She was truly amazing as was her sculptures.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I pull my scarf

around my head

pull into me the

warmness I rarely

ever have.

-=-

I feel the strength

inside me swell,

although hunger

makes me weak,

and as I arise

my legs fail.

-=-

My fingers ache

from whittling today

but I would have

it no other way.

I build and shape,

then rest and breath,

my art forms before me.

My imagination's

wooden glow

gives me respite

and reprieve.

-=-

I create my own

reflection and

add one more

bust to my

collection.

Wood doesn't lie,

I see the truth

in my own

sunken eyes.

-=-

A carved portrait

of an old broad

who's seen some things.

but all life has beauty

and all words can be

transform into lyrics

to sing.

-=-

So I cut, shape and mold

an old worn face

shrouded in a material

lesser than silk, a perfect

cloth for those of my ilk.

-=-

But at the end of the day

I rise, I smile at myself

in it's wooden form where

solitude and imagination has

become my norm.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Thanks for reading! - Sam