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"The Canvas" by Eric Wayne Flynn

Updated on January 11, 2015
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"The Canvas"

Blank; from the start

For what will it be, this potential work of art

This fetus, this skin; stretched over the frame

The skeletal support for the flesh that remains

Awaiting the stroke

From that brush of genius

The creator; this master of his craft

Equipped with a full palette of colors

Wisely chosen, with a well thought out plan

This painter; this creation; this canvas given way to the mistakes of man

Smacking the brush with sickly tinted pigments of blues and browns and greens

Smeared in with some red, purple and yellow to really muddle up the scene

This potential

This possibly perfect piece of work

This canvas, subjected to the soul

This canvas, black and covered in soot

This canvas, summoned, to be torn asunder

Thrown into a long black night, in which this canvas cannot be saved

A work of art, surrounded by darkness, sits alone, awaiting it's addition to the gallery of the grave




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    • Eric Flynn profile image
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      Eric Wayne Flynn 2 years ago from Providence, Rhode Island

      Thank you again Joy56.

      EWF

    • Joy56 profile image

      Joy56 2 years ago

      Enjoyed that... Makes me want to see the finished work of art

    • Eric Flynn profile image
      Author

      Eric Wayne Flynn 2 years ago from Providence, Rhode Island

      Hi Jamie, I am glad it read that way. Birth is so promising and somehow , some way, many "canvases" fall into darkness; from which many cannot be salvaged. Thank you for the visit as always.

      EWF

    • jhamann profile image

      Jamie Lee Hamann 2 years ago from Reno NV

      I love how you begin me on a path that seems uplifting, a look at the process of art, but then take me to a darker place. Pretty Awesome! Jamie

    • profile image

      christinemariezzz 2 years ago

      Wow! Eric thanks for thrusting this personal note my way. It means a lot. Artists, writers, Hubbers they are some of the most empathetic on this earth.

      Keep going....

      ~christinemarie

    • Eric Flynn profile image
      Author

      Eric Wayne Flynn 2 years ago from Providence, Rhode Island

      Hi Christine, as much as this poem is about the purity of God's creations being perverted by man, it is also about my own experiences as a painter. Sometimes I try to create and evoke something wonderful and it turns to mud, we as humans are very flawed as creators hence our many flawed outputs or canvases. For every painting I have made that I love, I also have many that aren't as dear or divine to me, and I have thrown them muddied in the back of my closet. The hope lies in the fact that we still are alive and able to create and try again and use our hardships to refine and create a greater depth in our work through our pain and suffering. I know your creativity will come back to you stronger than before and with a greater appreciation after your hiatus. I take a break from writing and painting often when I feel I need to, I feel horrible about it sometimes, but I am a natural being and I go through seasons just as nature. I try to embrace my dark, my light and all the textures and emotions that life brings. Thanks for the visit.

      EWF

    • Eric Flynn profile image
      Author

      Eric Wayne Flynn 2 years ago from Providence, Rhode Island

      Hi Dana, thank you very much for the comment. I am pleased that this poem has been interpreted so well by those who have read it. The parallel to nature is something I hadn't thought of but you are absolutely correct in that diagnosis.

      EWF

    • profile image

      christinemariezzz 2 years ago

      Eric,

      "...covered in soot..." Sincere expressions here, in and throughout. Brought personal encouragement to me: Let me at explain: I have paused on posting on HubPages, my canvas for this winter season : My I Pad art app, and my Hub page poetry miscellany.My I pad was stolen 2 weeks ago, disabling my participation to birth new hubs~dark„ in soot....thrown into a long black night of waiting..." My thoughts went this way in reading your entry...and somehow brought promise...thanks.

      ~christinemarie

    • Dana Tate profile image

      Dana Tate 2 years ago from LOS ANGELES

      We come into the world a blank canvas intricately designed by the hands and mind of a perfect creator designed as master pieces and a work of art. Once in the world we are shaped and molded by life. We become marred, broken, sometimes even destroyed by the hands of man. What I loved about this poem is it reminds me of nature. Created in perfection but callously treated. We too are workmanships of creation but we have abused ourselves and each other.

    • Eric Flynn profile image
      Author

      Eric Wayne Flynn 2 years ago from Providence, Rhode Island

      Hi Jodah, you n Whonu have both hit the nail on the head. Thanks for the visit.

      EWF

    • Jodah profile image

      John Hansen 2 years ago from Queensland Australia

      I agree with whonu. We are all a blank canvas in the womb with the potential to be unique work of art. Then unfortunately it is left to our parents and our environment to finish it off. If they do everything the way the Lord intended we will turn out a masterpiece, if not we can be totally ruined. Great poem Eric.

    • Eric Flynn profile image
      Author

      Eric Wayne Flynn 2 years ago from Providence, Rhode Island

      Thank you Whonu, it seems to me you absolutely understand what I was trying to say in this poem, and that makes me very happy; to be understood is a gift.

      EWF

    • whonunuwho profile image

      whonunuwho 2 years ago from United States

      A canvas...much like the blank slate of our hearts at birth. awaits the creation of a work of art...if only those around the newborn share the main pigment...that of human caring..love. Well done my friend. whonu