Hello readers! The following is a poem intended as a celebration of the 'Artist'. One devoid of material joys and disconnected from worldly commitments. He simply exists for the sake of his art and dedicates all his life for it.

It was written on a spree and is one among the 11 poems I wrote in the March of 2021. Do let me know in the comments if you want me to post the other ones!

Don't bother me for all that money, so
Nought, no costly desks worth so
Don't pull me in your bankers row
I'm an artist born and raised
by my own shadow.
Don't bother me for all that money, so-

Don't bother me for all that money so,
Since tender years of gleeful glow
I've dreamt of art and no more
With genius sprouting above my neck
And although I might be a nervous wreck
My boldness shines in my pen's flow
Don't you bother me with that money so-

Ours is a richness frequent tribe
Pay ransom to thoughts
and to Beauty we bribe.
We'll live in a cave or a hut,
Barely ashore.
But without our verse, we'll be stifling sore.
And with thus far came...I bid you implore
Don't bother me with money anymore.

I've travelled large lands
With empty hands.
Park benches as my headrest beloved.
For every stroke of paint
And words so quaint,
As my oars;
I've carried my boat and sometimes rowed.

Frequented Fame
And ran from the same
I've had my homely guests as Gaud and Gore.
With my verse in my bag, stroke in my store
Thus will end my life's lore.

12.14 p.m.
23rd March, 2021

The concept for this, has been borrowed from Arthur Edgar O'Shaughnessy's "Ode". A beautiful piece of literature written as an ode to all creators and artists around the world. I encourage you all to give that a read as well. I will link it here below. I do hope you enjoy it!

Ode  by Arthur O'Shaughnessy

We are the music makers,

poetryfoundation.org

So long until the next post! Stay tuned, cheers!