Blind Eye

Were I an artist as snow fell upon the poor,

the poor in spirit, poor in heart, I would catch

each shiver, each jaw chattering hunger pain.

Of course I will feed you, give you warmth

with each brush stroke, but I cannot paint your death.

It would be hypocrisy to paint the downtrodden.

Just who do you think you are? Are you the painter

with no ear? No, no my friend, you are the painter

with no heart and eyes that cannot see.

2 comments

  1. genuinearticlex7 · 27 Days Ago

    Pretty straight up. Chris Queen

    Like

    • sdgrimes · 27 Days Ago

      Thank you much. At my age life is straight up sometimes. Thanks again.

      Like

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