The Canvas

The Canvas

By Amanda P

A blank canvas sits upon an easel

No color, no words, no expectations

The artist knows not what to write, nor knows what to do

All that is plopped on the palate is the colors red, white, and blue

A brush tucked into hands of the young and old

Strokes crimson red, gliding, blotting, blurring

Battles and trials of times past, disappear into the fibrous fabric

What is left is the remnants of old memories that fade into graphics

A quick dip and the scarlet vanishes into the abyss

A new color one of blue begins to think, believe, dream

Imaginative and daring, the new shade blends and overwhelms the foretold

The piercing pain of yesterday is replaced with the mystery of what is to unfold

The residue of what was and the anticipation of what is takes over the white sheet

The artist chooses to add something new, shimmering, iridescent, individualistic

Fearless and daunting, this tint of gold adds personality to what has been spread

The canvas is no longer barren and incomplete as unspoken meaning is said

The piece resting upon the easel is avant garde

A life in color, inventive, interpretive, intimate

The artist knows now what to write and what to do

In the piece is integrated the colors of red, white, and blue

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741