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Sunday, September 25, 2016

When A Young Artist Dreams

By: Ymatruz | Filed under: |

The poems says it all, “When a young artist dreams”.

Ymatruz Poetry. Image courtesy of Free Pretty Things for You.

Molded thoughts of a child
by her mother's hands & grace,
she asked her, who do you want to be

A mockingbird singing opera
or a duckling princess dancing at night?
Her mother buzzing like a fly, talked endlessly

as they marched in the museum of
national modern art, where great artists
flaunt their crafts, honed talents showcased

on the rainbow backdrops, if not,
standing in the middle wall, circled
by invisible glass around boasted pedestal.

Amazed by the magic seen,
she saw herself dreaming of
a kid her age, mesmerized by

the artwork painted deep brown,
yellow green, & purple in her mind.
Feasted by illusionists in the gallery hall

with her future sculptures
lifelike, stone handmade passion
made by artisan master as herself.

Dreamer child went back home
her mind floating lightly as paper,
happy. "No rosemary, please." she said

to her mother as she took out
thawed chicken soaked years ago
in powdered garlic & lemon pepper.

Roasted chicken. Mashed potatoes.
Ah, her stomach growled loud like
bubbling beef stew in her mother's pot.

Still mystified from museum visit
she gazed at her nana's masterpiece
buried in volcanic ashes, rustic frame

collapsing, hanged in the right-sided
historical wall, abandoned with floating
spiderwebs inside the archaic family room.

Smiling, she whispered to herself,
"I want to be the greatest female artist
born out of my grandmother's art history."

then she ran fast to the basement,
picked up her old polymer clay kit,
opened her mini iPad & she Google

How to sculpt a head out of it.


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