Blank Canvas

[Curious Mylo]

Blank Canvas

 

Well, life has handed you a canvas.

A big, white, blank canvas.

I’ve got one, too,

And mine hasn’t ended up so pretty...

It’s torn, burned, and spilled on

And I’m not so proud of it.

But it’s what I’ve got.

I’ve hidden it and claimed another was mine.

I’ve tried to get another one,

But no one would give one to me.

And now all I can do is work with mine and fix it.

At least, what I can of it.

So, I could give you mine.

Let you see what I’ve got.

But that wouldn’t really help.

You couldn’t learn it for yourself.

Now, take your canvas,

Do what you will,

And don’t give up when it gets ugly.

[Wyvern]

I really like how you used the concept of this poem, Curious Mylo. :-) The blank canvas metaphor can seem played out when used in an uninspired manner, but the way you incorporated it in this poem made me pause and think a couple of times and held my attention. The most interesting part of the poem to me was the section where the narrator discussed what she did when she tried to give up on her canvas, as the thought of her hiding it and claiming another was hers struck me as a very interesting concept in the context of the metaphor. Having said this, the ending of the poem was a bit disappointing to me, maybe because it seemed more predictable than the rest of the piece or maybe because it felt a little disconnected from the rest of the poem. Did the narrator experience some form of hardship when she tried to get another canvas or claim that another was hers? If you expanded upon that point, the lesson that the poem tries to teach at the end might fit better.

 

Very nicely done, overall. Thanks for sharing this poem here.

[Quincunx]

Something dropped out of the sky and hit me on the head. Either the pigeons are doing target practice again, or I'm about to agree with Wyvern on a review. You've taken a dingy, worn metaphor and made it fresh and clean again, and that because you didn't succumb to the usual temptation and extend the metaphor too far. This was a rare instance where telling instead of showing was the correct thing to do; it gave the poem a friendly, conversational tone.

 

This poem isn't finished yet--it does fray from sincerity a bit in the first two lines and the final one. I can't make my language simple enough to suggest a fix, and can only say that the 'telling' shows up a little too strongly there; you were too conscious of trying to make a point to the reader instead of the canvas-holder. Whether you change those lines or not, hold onto this poem. It'll stay with you for years--with time, you may rework the metaphor to try out new poetic skills--I believe it'll be a canvas of your poetic history.