Artistic
Creation
(c)2013 Bob
Atkinson
many objects
strive to gain
attention in
the artistic game
setting
themselves up as central
artistic
cores for painted subjects
birds, trees,
animals
raging wild
snorting bulls
buildings,
bridges, royal halls
religions
sacred, meant to awe
all these
have good meaning
drawing
artists' artistic feelings
to the fore
of creative minds
standing
still for painted lines
yet
when we sit
down and ponder
didn't create
that scene so wonderful
didn't make
the river bend
shallow
brook, or sweet red hen
aren't gods
who have that power
so how can we
claim due honor
without
adding something creative
else our
talent won't ring true
false talent
beyond our measure
tallies
points deducted summarily
by those who
carry on their drama
claiming that
which they do not own
talent casts
an angry wave
onto the
canvas if not made
with the
efforts long and sincere
many
critiques voiced by peers
simple forms
made to shock
no close
looks within those blocks
no lines of
worry on the brow
or angry man
breathing hard
tell me now
and firmly why
graffiti is
an art of yours
simple forms
and simple lines
do not fine
art make
they only
tell stories of
your
backwards feelings
lack of love
for those you
share life with
truly common
simple breath
making ugly
our environment
taking from
us all our pride in
what we've
built, what we've made
through
deviant cultures on parade
ingrained
elegance
that which
you do not know
powerful
feelings inward hopes
of living a
life civilized
beauty ever
by our side
if you've not
shown emotion
can't claim
directness or devotion
need to
shrink within your lark
can't hold
good form if not good art
in my mind no
subject can
rise higher
in importance than
history of
our sweet green land
or brown
earth areas sparse of man
water
conquered by design
perseverance,
endless trials
confusion of
our fellow man
in how to
live in tree lined lands
can't freeze
ingrained feelings
better than
with artistic notions
trained with
an eagle eye
pouncing ever
upon emotional ties
seeing dates,
times and places
brightened
eyes and furrowed faces
stances
proud, kneeling, crying
solid hope
and violent dying
tell me if my
idea hits walls
or
can we line
these hallowed halls
with that
which we feel inside
always
driving through our pride
with time set
still, a frozen crystal
down below,
our deepest thoughts
flying firmly
beyond light's vision
toward that
which defines good mission
