The Artist

[bestoweroflight]

The Artist splashed color onto the page,

Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page.

As they dripped into the colors,

Each color thanked her for making them come alive.

Blue said,

“I yearned to be the color of the skies,

The color of rushing waters,

Your tears showed me the way”.

Green then exclaimed,

“The color of the leaves in Spring were but an image,

But your being poured into mine,

With each drop I become the very thing I sought”.

Yellow,

With its bright gaze upon the sky,

“I blinded myself searching for what gives the Sun its radiance,

However it is your warmth that makes me glisten on the page.”

And Red,

Whose deep and passionate color came from the blood of the artist herself,

Did not speak words at all,

But only danced across the page,

As the artist and her masterpiece became one.

[CRNDLSM]

I really like this, I get a dark twist to it from the tears leading to blood, and the fact that red doesn't say anything. My only suggestion is to drop one of the 'on the page' s at the beginning. Thanks for sharing!

[Magpie]

Hi, there is a lot to like about this poem and there are some nice images within. It would benefit from being trimmed back a bit as there is a lot of unnecessary repetition. I've left a few thoughts below. 

The Artist splashed color onto the page, — there is a lot of 'color' mentioned in the first few lines. You could either use alternative words such as 'hue' or trim anything that is redundant

Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page. — 'salty tears' is cliche

As they dripped into the colors,

Each color thanked her for making them come alive.

Blue said,

“I yearned to be the color of the skies, — 'yearned' is past tense; do you mean 'yearn'?

The color of rushing waters, — these two lines could be more powerful as metaphor - "I yearn to be the sky and rushing water"

Your tears showed me the way”.

Green then exclaimed,

“The color of the leaves in Spring were but an image, 

But your being poured into mine,

With each drop I become the very thing I sought”.

Yellow,

With its bright gaze upon the sky,

“I blinded myself searching for what gives the Sun its radiance,

However it is your warmth that makes me glisten on the page.”

And Red,

Whose deep and passionate color came from the blood of the artist herself,

Did not speak words at all,

But only danced across the page,

As the artist and her masterpiece became one.

Just a few thoughts worth possible consideration. Less is sometimes more (cliche - I know - but it's true)

Thanks for the read,

Mark

[Donald Q.]

The Artist splashed color onto the page,  Does an artist paint on a page? Surely they pain on a canvas, or something similar? 

Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page. The second half of this line is a bit too similar to the first line, it seems redundant. 

As they dripped into the colors, Maybe combine this line with the previous one?  

Each color thanked her for making them come alive. An interesting twist!

Blue said,

“I yearned to be the color of the skies,

The color of rushing waters,

Your tears showed me the way”. Nice idea, works well. 

Green then exclaimed,

“The color of the leaves in Spring were but an image, 

But your being poured into mine,

With each drop I become the very thing I sought”. The imagery for green isn't quite as good as that you give the other colours. More details maybe? 

Yellow,

With its bright gaze upon the sky,

“I blinded myself searching for what gives the Sun its radiance, Ha, very clever. 

However it is your warmth that makes me glisten on the page.”

And Red,

Whose deep and passionate color came from the blood of the artist herself, I think you can be more subtle with this twist. You could almost get away with not mentioning where the red comes from, only that it sure as hell ain't from the tears, and let the reader make the connection. 

Did not speak words at all,

But only danced across the page,

As the artist and her masterpiece became one. 

An interesting piece here, with an intriguing conceit, very enjoyable. It does need some tidying up in places; some I have highlighted, and I think sometimes the repetition is rather overwhelming, particularly the word colour! I like the passionate tone of the poem, look forward to reading an edit.

[bestoweroflight]

Thanks to all who gave their feedback I have been writing for years now and typically my writing is entirely unedited as it comes out of my brain to paper, this definitely gives me some inspiration to go back and relook at some of my older works.

[Wonderfullife]

I like this poem. It is an imaginative way to view a painting and the colors used.
I like how it suggests something of the struggle and involvement the artist undergoes in his or her creation.
My only suggestion is that using the word ‘color’ less often in the first half, may have strengthened it.
Overall, a delightful and interesting poem.


The Artist splashed color onto the page,
Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page.
As they dripped into the colors,
Each color thanked her for making them come alive......Each thanked her
Blue said,
“I yearned to be the color of the skies,
The color of rushing waters,........................the frenzy of rushing water
Your tears showed me the way”.
Green then exclaimed,
“The color of the leaves in Spring were but an image,
But your being poured into mine,
With each drop I become the very thing I sought”.
Yellow,
With its bright gaze upon the sky,
“I blinded myself searching for what gives the Sun its radiance,
However it is your warmth that makes me glisten on the page.”
And Red,
Whose deep and passionate color came from the blood of the artist herself,
Did not speak words at all,
But only danced across the page,
As the artist and her masterpiece became one.

[Coquette16]

I like the story this poems tells...it's easy on the ears...I can almost see someone sitting on a stool in front of an easel around which paint has sprinkled the floor more than the canvas.

The colors, having each their separate "message" (personification usage) is intriguing,  but when the lines begin it seems to distract from the overall tone I mentioned above. Perhaps a more intimate point of view...as the colors drip, pour, etc. what does the eye see and the heart feel from the artists' perspective?  

The poem reminds me a bit of the "Tale of Three Trees", I suppose...

Great material to work with!

---

I like the story this poems tells...it's easy on the ears...I can almost see someone sitting on a stool in front of an easel around which paint has sprinkled the floor more than the canvas.

The colors, having each their separate "message" (personification usage) is intriguing,  but when the lines begin it seems to distract from the overall tone I mentioned above. Perhaps a more intimate point of view...as the colors drip, pour, etc. what does the eye see and the heart feel from the artists' perspective?  

The poem reminds me a bit of the "Tale of Three Trees", I suppose...

Great material to work with!

[hesawacko]

Hi, i think this is pretty great. What I did notice, and it started to distract from your message a little, was that you repeated a few words a few too many times ... specifically "color" and "page". I think someone above mentioned that... maybe finding some alternate words that convey they same meaning - or convey it even better - might really help this. But overall, i love the imagery and the idea that the artist is leaving a bit of themselves in their art. Way cool. Thanks for sharing.

[Mark Cecil]

I really like the premise behind this poem of how the colours come to life by the artists tears to express how we see colour around us. My only suggestion is to develop it further with more colours and also as already said I think green could be further developed rather than just referring to the coming of spring. But I enjoyed reading your poetry keep up the good work.

[ponykeeper]

You’ve gotten some great comments on this already so I won’t go into line by line detail. I do agree about the repetitiveness of the opening lines. It’s an interesting idea you have about the artist’s tears, but they puzzle me. I know, being a painter myself, that tears are not, as a rule, involved in the process (unless the work is going really badly, but in that case the colours would not be thanking the artist I’m thinking). For me it’s almost as if the first half of the poem hasn’t been written yet.-- These tears stemming from such and such have resulted in a masterpiece. I’m left wondering why.
I hope my comments are of some help, I enjoyed thinking about this.

[mcauburn]

I really like the concept behind the poem.  Although I'm curious my she's so sad and why being so sad, she's using such bright colors.  She might be yearning for a brighter day, but she's in a dark cloud.  Thanks for sharing.

[Shelrabbi]

I really liked the ending. There's a lot of power in it.

Most of what I think has already been said. I'll repeat though that if you try not to use the same word twice (color), or even words like "but" and "and", your writing will be more rich and, if nothing else, it will make you work harder to do the writing and you'll end up getting better at a faster rate. I picked up on how you tried to link lines using the same phrases though. It was a nice move.

The colors talking feels rushed. It feels like you could go deeper into what they're saying, and get a better look at their feelings. Maybe focus less on what else is yellow or blue and more on the "you transform me into what I always was" angle.

Again, I liked it. Great job with red too. It was pitch perfect.

[nibbed]

Hi, I haven't read the previous critiques, so please forgive if I repeat. I have been having difficulty reading through a lot of darkness, lately. I like it because it seems light, and well, colorful.



The Artist splashed color onto the page,
Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page.      Much repetition with "color"/page. Shade, Hue, Tint, Blush, Wash/
As they dripped into the colors,                                                                                                                      Paper, Canvas, Surface
Each color thanked her for making them come alive.
Blue said,
“I yearned to be the color of the skies,
The color of rushing waters,
Your tears showed me the way”.                                                                 tears: distress, drops, waterworks
Green then exclaimed,
“The color of the leaves in Spring were but an image,
But your being poured into mine,
With each drop I become the very thing I sought”.
Yellow,
With its bright gaze upon the sky,                                                                Perhaps: Yellow, brightly gazing to the sky?
“I blinded myself searching for what gives the Sun its radiance,
However it is your warmth that makes me glisten on the page.”
And Red,                                                                                                      Mysterious, I am trying to see how/where this change happened
Whose deep and passionate color came from the blood of the artist herself,  Maybe eliminating the first "the" in this line.
Did not speak words at all,                                                                             I was thinking maybe research an artist's color palette,
But only danced across the page,                                                                  like: Crimson Red, Yellow Ochre, Cerulean Blue, etc.
As the artist and her masterpiece became one.                                               perhaps even eliminating the primaries on this list altogether.



                                                                                                                       Best Wishes!

[litQueen]

I read this last night and couldn't stop thinking about it when I woke up this morning.

The Artist splashed color onto the page,

Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page.  - I agree with the redundance of "the page" and "colors" here. Maybe just "Her tears gave complexity to the hues she painted"?

As they dripped into the colors,

Each color thanked her for making them come alive.

Blue said,

“I yearned to be the color of the skies,

The color of rushing waters,

Your tears showed me the way”.

Green then exclaimed,

“The color of the leaves in Spring were but an image,

But your being poured into mine,

With each drop I become the very thing I sought”.

Yellow,

With its bright gaze upon the sky, - I would eliminate the "with" here.. Would make for better flow I think

“I blinded myself searching for what gives the Sun its radiance,

However it is your warmth that makes me glisten on the page.”

And Red,

Whose deep and passionate color came from the blood of the artist herself,

Did not speak words at all,

But only danced across the page,

As the artist and her masterpiece became one.

Thank you!

[alyssa]

This is really beautiful! I love the personification, it adds a lot of character to the poem. I would say that it is unnecessary for there to be two lines that read "on the page," but all in all really beautiful! <3

[operadiva]

I totally agree, the dark twist at the end was unexpected and really great. Some of the images were a bit cliche, Blue wanting to be the color of the sky, and a rushing river is pretty predictable. I feel like the artist is going through something complex and difficult, but the painting she is working on is not as deep. I want the art to reflect the artist, much in the way you're describing. I love the concept. Art without the artist isn't going to move anyone. I think that you contrast the almost bombastic nature of the other colors to the silence of the red, you set that up very well. I really enjoyed reading this!

thank you
operadiva

[AttnAttack]

I love the twist at the end, the spilling of blood and the symbollism.

However, and this is coming from an absolute beginner, I'm not so sure about the prose parts; eg the excessive wording.  It kinda feels like I'm reading sentences in a book, not words from a soul (again, this is coming from a newbie so what do I know?)

Some examples:

"Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page."

I'm not sure salty needs to be said.  Tears are inherently salty.  I feel like a different adjective could take this place or taken out altogether.  If it were me I would write

Her tears brought complex colors, brushed upon the page

But that's just me.

Each color thanked her for making them come alive.

The predicate stands on its own fairly well, you don't need the "coming alive" part imo. You could rewrite this to: "Each color thanked her for their birth" or "Each color thanked her for life"

Green then exclaimed,

Drop the "then".  I don't like it for some reason.  

With each drop I become the very thing I sought”.

Change "the very thing" to "what" and it will look cleaner

Whose deep and passionate color came from the blood of the artist herself,

Drop "from the blood of" to clean this up as well.

All in all, I love the premise, but I don't really like the wordiness of it.  thats just a personal preference, although.

[spiritthebrave]

I love a lot of things about this poem. I think it 
1) gives me very intense imagery 2) created a brand new outlook on art 3) was a unique poem with new thoughts

my critiques are mainly in the details. 

The Artist splashed color onto the page,

Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page.  this line is very wordy and you repeat "onto the page"

As they dripped into the colors,

Each color thanked her for making them come alive. this line could use a smoother transition

Blue said,

“I yearned to be the color of the skies,

The color of rushing waters,

Your tears showed me the way”.

Green then exclaimed,

“The color of the leaves in Spring were but an image,

But your being poured into mine, you used the word but 2 words ago

With each drop I become the very thing I sought”.

Yellow,

With its bright gaze upon the sky,

“I blinded myself searching for what gives the Sun its radiance,

However it is your warmth that makes me glisten on the page.”

And Red,

Whose deep and passionate color came from the blood of the artist herself,

Did not speak words at all,

But only danced across the page,

As the artist and her masterpiece became one.

[Pat Doiron]

The Artist splashed color onto the page,

Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page.

As they dripped into the colors,

Each color thanked her for making them come alive.

Blue said,

“I yearned to be the color of the skies,

The color of rushing waters,

Your tears showed me the way”.

Green then exclaimed,

“The color of the leaves in Spring were but an image,

But your being poured into mine,

With each drop I become the very thing I sought”.

Yellow,

With its bright gaze upon the sky,

“I blinded myself searching for what gives the Sun its radiance,

However it is your warmth that makes me glisten on the page.”

And Red,

Whose deep and passionate color came from the blood of the artist herself,

Did not speak words at all,

But only danced across the page,

As the artist and her masterpiece became one.

hello bestoweroflight, I actually like this allot. perhaps a bit redundant at first, the word "page" and "color" repeat quite often in the the first few lines. perhaps "hues" instead of colors or perhaps, change the line "Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page." to something like "her salty tears gave THEM complexity" "as they dripped into other HUES" i really like the rest of it though 

[Wright]

The Artist splashed color onto the page,

Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page.

As they dripped into the colors,

Each color thanked her for making them come alive.

Blue said,

“I yearned to be the color of the skies,

The color of rushing waters,

Your tears showed me the way”.

Green then exclaimed,

“The color of the leaves in Spring were but an image,

But your being poured into mine,

With each drop I become the very thing I sought”.

Yellow,

With its bright gaze upon the sky,

“I blinded myself searching for what gives the Sun its radiance,

However it is your warmth that makes me glisten on the page.”

And Red,

Whose deep and passionate color came from the blood of the artist herself,

Did not speak words at all,

But only danced across the page,

As the artist and her masterpiece became one.

Hello! 
Like many others I enjoyed reading this poem. The whole idea of the artist allowing the colors to live and to become a part of her (with or without her tears) is a definitely cool concept! Some of the lines such as
 The color of the leaves in Spring were but an image,
But your being poured into mine,
and
“I blinded myself searching for what gives the Sun its radiance,
However it is your warmth that makes me glisten on the page.”
Kinda made the whole flow of the poem stop. If that was the intent then you did your job, but if not I would keep the ideas the same but change the words to make it go a little better between the lines. You did a great job creating visuals especially talking about the color red (that was my favorite part). All and all good job thank you for sharing!