Poetry

Artists Mistake

She’s a mess of straight lines.

The artist was jogged

when designing her mind-

the colours blurred

merged

to form something wholly

unheard of.

But the artist was

a modernist

avant garde in his approach,

what cared he

if her figure had two left knees

joint by what looked

like a barge pole.

So disjointed was she

but so elegantly

that her defects went

mostly unnoticed-

until she was all of 16.

Then

the flesh paint

began to wear thin,

her pieces began to un-stick

and cracks began to

gleam through.

She jolted whilst walking

and winced as she smiled

her hands were too purple

and her pupils

the wrong size.

The artist mourned

her raggedy state

but then squinted

bent his head to one side

and eventually smiled.

She carried on

she was not changed,

Only seen

finally

as the artists mistake.

 

5 thoughts on “Artists Mistake

  1. That’s a great poem, and some powerful thoughts!

    Don’t dwell on the mistake, though. I’m ploughing through the revision of my book*, it’ll be out in a few days. I am very careful to make my main character someone who isn’t perfect, and without letting any cats out of bags**, I will say that imperfection is that which leads the human to sympathize with a character.

    The bland stereotypical James Bond images – they’re not characters – keep the mind happy through amazing stunts and visual violence. Most modern detective stories focus on someone who’s been killed.

    Learning the secret of empathy – which does lie in your book, by the way, even if you’re not conscious of it yet – is that which makes for something people will read, and re-read.

    (*The first bit, at least.)
    (**No cats were bagged in the making of this comment).

    Like

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