Whether you write, paint, or just doodle, you know how free you feel when you’ve created something great. When you have painted a scene from inside your head or have written a song that expresses your soul, there is no greater feeling, nothing that makes you feel more alive. But when you struggle to create, get writer’s block, or can’t find the muse, your inability can cause deep frustration that makes the world seem a lonely and bitter place. This poem is about the process of creating art, of finding inspiration when it seems like there will never be inspiration again, and about overcoming the frustration that all artists feel sooner or later, finding that spark that brings joy into your life!
Why does the moon always seem to laugh at me?
Do you enjoy my struggle and my pain?
She hides my muse within her misty veil,
Cunningly plotting to trick me again.
Another miserable day is over
My brush and palette lay deathly still,
My inspiration remains elusive, out of reach,
Thus the empty canvas mocks me at will.
‘Paint me, paint me silly’, he suddenly yells,
Can’t you see I’m naked and cold?
Quickly cover me in warm swirling colors,
Magical colors that flow and explode.
Sunny yellows, deep blues and violets,
And striking roses streaked with passionate reds.
Refreshing greens and exotic oranges,
No images floating in your head?
Paint those brassy busty beauties,
That drives men crazy with her seductive lips.
Dress these women in short, windswept skirts,
revealing voluptuous buttocks, thighs and hips.
What more can a man ask for?
Of course, with painted faces and bright red lips,
They’ll probably look like a bunch of whores,
Come on, let your mind spin and explore, need I say more?
So come on, don’t just sit there
With the hands parked behind the head.
The night approaches, the day dies,
Soon it will be time to go to bed.
‘Hush, hush,’ cried the angry artist,
Or I’ll tear you and your emptiness to pieces!
How can I paint when there is nothing but your canvases,
To inspire me and drag worthy images out of my head?
Do you think it is so easy to paint?
Although it seems deceptively so.
I’m trapped in a pit of loneliness
Without a lover to call mine.
I won’t paint anything old
That’s off the top of my head!
I want to create my masterpiece,
If not, let my talent stay dead!
Let me be, leave me to my nocturnal sadness,
Where sleep will fortunately allow me to forget,
And I hope to find inspiration tomorrow,
So at least I can pay off some of my debts.’
The sun has set and the full moon flows
Through my windows, so beautiful and sweet,
Yet I spin as the rays caress my face
Because peaceful sleep eludes my embrace.
I lay awake, completely exhausted
While the thoughts dance in my head,
The night seems to go on forever, so,
Maybe I’ll go for a walk instead.
The cool breeze gently kisses my cheeks,
The full moon hangs huge, low and bright,
Suddenly, out of nowhere, my muse comes to life,
Crossing my path to get me out of my plight.
She is a vision of beauty, walking her dog.
She smiles and says ‘hello and good night!’
My heart was wounded by cupid’s arrow
And I know that I will never be right again.
Excited, I returned home to get some sleep, to erase my pain by dreaming.
In dreams I danced with my beauty, cheek to cheek,
As my busty beauties bounced next to us,
Singing sweet songs, coming so alive, her cheap perfume made the air stink.
When I woke up, excitement and dreams flowed from my brush,
I filled the canvas with the depths of my soul,
I began to paint, stroke after stroke, with vivid colors.
Leaving rather pretty, but bold impressions.
I’m alive again, can’t you see, my soul has been set free,
My muse is no longer trapped by the night and the moon.
I found inspiration and beauty and I found my recovery.
So it was worth it, and I’ll be doing it all over again very soon!
