THE HERMIT
POOR OLD FROODY, ONCE A HANDSOME FROG
ONLY VIEWS LIFE THROUGH A DARK FOG.
HIS PALETTE FULL OF COLOURS BECOMES A WOODEN SHIELD
SWORDS HIS PAINTING BRUSHES IN READINESS TO WIELD.
NEVER LOOKING OUTWARDS OR UPWARDS TO THE SUN
HE HIDES BEHIND HIS EASEL, SUSPECTING EVERYONE.
DOWN IN THE FISHY WATER, AMONG THE TANGLED WEED
INTELLECTUAL ART BOOKS AND NEWS PAPERS HE'LL READ.
SUCKING ON HIS OLD PIPE PLANNING WORKS DIVINE
HE SUPS ON PLATES OF PASTA AND BOTTLES OF RED WINE.
AND AT HIS FRIENDS HE'LL RUDELY SHOUT
KEEPING ALL HIS CALLERS OUT.
GO AWAY. I AM NOT IN TO DAY
UNTIL MY EYES ARE BLURRED
AND MY HEART BEATS FAINT
ALL I WANT TO DO IS PAINT.
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| ART WORK BY RAYE'S ANGELS. |
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