Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

An artists parent

Its not easy to be an artists parent,

it needs much more than patience.

 

An artist is a mass of amorphous air,

that needs understanding and care.

 

An artists parent who knows that,

becomes a saviour and confidente.

 

An artists parent who knows that not,

is doomed to a relationship as bare and draught.

 

Its not easy to be an artists parent,

its needs quiet deliberance.

Of when to push their creative child,

and when to let them be.

Of when their child needs inspiration,

or has a burst of creativity.

 

An artists parent is observant,

of the ups and downs that the creative faces.

Or when its tired of fighting the world,

and needs tender embraces.

 

An artists parent has full faith,

even when the artist is lost.

Because that is when the artist looks for anchors,

when his gaseos state finds it not.

 

Is it easy being a parent to any other?

An engineer or a doctor maybe?

Why? because he follows an age old path,

that was set for him when he was three?

 

Did you know that an artist is wild,

and has the ability to accept?

To look at you with unjudging eyes,

and understand you to his best.

 

Like everyone he has two sides,

unlike others he accepts both.

This gives him power,

to create a miracles on the move.

 

He his sensitive to emotions,

and can feel the mood.

His own and others around.

 

He knows what you mean,

when you say you feel alone,

because he has known it all life long.

Request permission to use this poem
Written by
kittu
Indian
Published
Aug 1, 2013
Lines·Words
40·260
Notes

[Inspired after a travelling conversation with a corporate power man. ]

He did not understand his artist daughter,

called insolent and defiant.

This made me angry, but i understood.

then patiently explained to him the points in this poem.

I dont know where he is now or if he heard a word I said.

But I explained all this to him with an honest heart,

and he complemented me on this....

Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell kittu how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write