[Synopsis: To some, art is to be expressed, admired, worshipped but never misinterpretated and sold with a price!This poem traces a sad possibility of a few unfortunate who have to contemplate art to earn a living!
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The Portrait
In an “art house” besides the butcher
In a dark corner, antics and all clutter
A portrait beheld a tale, unexplored and bitter
Depicting an aged taboo fraternity
Or a crowd seeking a euphoric mentality
Almost obscene, art with no solidarity
Had it depicted art as a musical
Or as a phrase, profound and sceptical
Or portrait love,life or the immortal
Rather was the silhouette all nude
Fancy to the eyes a shabby delude
An era of art crumbling or its prelude
Art is worship yet chastity clueless
The artist’s theme, weak and baseless
Pleasing to the senses yet still senseless
Should the artist be living hand to mouth?
No success or livelihood anytime about
In a dilemma his sore soul did shout
A shout! To voice himself against a question
For living is a risk with no stable solution
And hunger met him at a rational junction
Time rewarded the portrait a vulgar boast
While patrons of passion are but lost
Striving all means to live and art all lost!
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