MD Kerr

Day 4: Matisse

Shakespearean sonnet

Handwritten poem

Listen on SoundCloud: just this poem or the whole NaPoWriMo 2019 playlist


For years, youve raved to me about Matisse:
his colours! scything lines! the empty space
as potent as the shapes, the bold release
of cut-outs flung at walls, at ages face:
his finest work came last, you said. It can,
with artists, often. Youd draw on him you swerved
to talk of cave-wall art. I froze, dead-pan.
Youd paint me skinny. When I saw the curved
tattoos and belly-flesh, I cried, relieved.
You see me, paddling jungles, unashamed
to use a wheelchair. Like Matisse. He weaved
between assistants, cut when age had claimed
his dexterous hands. I watch your art release
and knuckles swelling. Dont forget Matisse.

Thanks (I think) to for the prompt to write a sad sonnet, simply expressed, and to Robert Lee Brewer for Writers' Digest April Poem-a-day challenge for the prompt to write a poem about an artist.


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