Published March 10, 2009
The yellowed light that fell
through the window cast shadows
that stretched to the corners
of the room.
The artist picked up his brush
and began to transfer the image
of the beauty that sat
stock-still in front of him.
The shadows grew, faded,
and grew again,
as light turned to darkness,
over and over, day after day.
Still the artist remained
in front of his canvas.
Still his subject remained
in her perfect pose.
When the painting was complete,
the artist stepped back to admire his work.
The painting seemed as if
it were full of life.
He told her she could get up now,
that she could come and see.
But she did not move
from the place she had held so long.
The artist looked closer.
Her chest no longer rose
and fell with her breath.
The girl was dead.
So consumed with his passion
and his pride, he lost a sense
of what was real and saw
only his painting.
As his subject faded away,
his painting grew richer.
His earlier observation was true.
The painting had captured her spirit.
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141,710 Literary Works • 675,600 Reviews
Good job. You are a great storyteller.
However, this doesn't seem much like a poem to me. It seems more like prose that you broke up into 4-line stanzas. For instance: "When the painting was complete, the artist stepped back to admire his work." That is just a kind of run-of-the-mill sentence, nothing very poetic about it. To make this piece feel more poetic, I would disagree with Music and suggest a rhyme scheme. It would make your storytelling so much more powerful.
Some other things:
I don't like the word choice here. I would say "record" or even "paint." But that's just me I think. There's nothing wrong with the word choice.
Like Music said in the other instance, I think there needs to be a "had" here.
Anyway, really nice and chilling work. Good luck!
rachel
Hiya! I'm Music, and I'll be your reviewer today.
artist picked up his brush[s],[/s] A comma isn't needed.
and began to transfer the image
of the beauty that sat-
stock-still- in front of him.
The shadows grew, faded,
and grew again,
as day turned to night
over and over, day after day. You've already used day in the previous line; perhaps you could rephrase this somehow?
Still, the artist remained
in front of his canvas[s],[/s].
Still, his subject remained
in her perfect pose.
When the painting was complete,
the artist stepped back to admire his work.
The painting seemed as if
it were full of life.
He told her she could get up now,
that she could come and see.
But, she did not move
from the place she had held so long. I think you need "had" in there, for both rhythm and grammar purposes.
The artist looked closer.
Her chest no longer rose
and fell with her breath.
The girl was dead. I really liked this and the two stanzas following it.
So consumed with his passion[s],[/s]
and his pride, he lost a sense
of what was real and saw
only his painting.
As his subject faded away,
his painting grew richer.
His earlier observation was true.
The painting had captured her spirit. Beautiful.
Anyhow, this was a wonderful poem, in my opinion! I loved the story it told. As I noted before, the last three stanzas were my favorite. I could feel how proud, consumed, and very nearly greedy the artist had felt, and the guilt and sadness he feels.
Great concept; great way of telling it. Thank you for not forcing rhymes and not even rhyming at all! (Don't get me wrong, I loved rhymed poetry. It's just nice to take a break from it every once in a while.)
The rhythm schemes weren't the best but weren't the worst.
Overall, well done!
Love,
Music.