Ode to the Artist

Inspired by Nancy Elizabeth Prophet an American sculptor & artist of African-American & Native-American descent of whom became the first to graduate from Rhode Island University of Design in 1918. She literally suffered for her art, while in Paris, often facing near starvation while pursuing her artistic endeavors.

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What will one do for their art

when it pulls them by the heart.

When every cell of your body is

on fire and every strand of your

hair vibrates with desire

to weave,

to write,

to sculpt,

to compose.

Does the beauty come from the mind?

Is it within each artist or does it

just appear and disappear like smoke.

My throat is dry, my belly aches from

hunger, I cannot sleep so I remain woke.

I eat at the ash of my desire to

create, to paint a picture with my words

that I cannot guarantee will ever be heard.

I claw at the dryness in my throat

the ashes in my mouth long for the

river of my mind, of my pen. Stanzas

of images, of creation within.

My last vestibule of thoughts

of a crescendo,

of wet clay

upon a marble table, of dreams turned

into fables, to stay on the page, on

the canvas, in the lyrics forever. I did

this. I wrote, drew, sculpted, composed with

ribs showing, eyes sunken.

No matter, because I know that

as long as words flow, and as long as

children dance, and the wind blows

someone will create.

someone will create.

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Thanks for reading! - Sam