The failed artist by David Disbury

Well did you ever…
Did you know that quiet unassuming gent on Tesco’s checkout 8, was a poet?
I didn’t know it 😉

Hi, here’s the latest scoop from the “almost front line”… our Dave is a poet! I only found out by a chance conversation with a musician who called over to Dave as he was checking out on my till. That was it… send me a poem when you’re ready Dave and I’ll share with my world… well here it is folks… enjoy…

The failed artist

He lives alone
In his parents’ home,
doing his painting
In their spare room.

Bitter, twisted
With self-loathing,
At going to Oxfam
To buy his clothing,
And the pound-shop
To buy things like microwave meals
Puddings in tins.

But these long days.
He only lives
For his sketching and painting
He’ll pound the street
In icy, coat soaking sleet.

In frustration, looking
For inspiration,
Armed to the teeth,
With charcoal, paper,

Nature puts him to the test,
He does his best.
But the weather’s changing
He is ageing.
It’s the winter of despair,
Everything he’s painted,
Has been a failure.

What topics would you like Dave to cover, throw some out and let’s see if they inspire him to take quill to parchment 😉

Thank you.


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