Artists on the Boulevard

Image Source: GettyImages

Reclusive I had been so long

Forgotten the ways of the world

Forgotten the art of speech known

The misty window said outside was cold.


My old, worn, brown jacket

That had seen better days

Now with ink splotches it’s dotted

Signs of my moods and rage.


I took a stroll on the boulevard

Where lost artists set up their easels

The colours of their palette clashed

Against the grey painted by the winter.


Shocked was I to find my songs

Printed on sheets yellowed

Fingerprints and wasted brushstrokes

Accompanied verses of our love now gone.


And such paintings our songs inspired!

Breathtaking; they would leave you speechless

Such talent, yet in the cold they’ve to perspire,

I merely watched as our words took form on canvas.


I continued to stroll when one artist

Cried aloud in despair, and in anger

Rushed to destroy what he had just painted

One of two lovers; he smeared on black and red.


The result seemed beautiful even then

Two bodies writhing in ecstasy or turmoil

I noticed the verse he used; it was my favourite

Reminded me of so much; I paid a sum royal.


Now it adorns the wall above my typewriter

Reminds me of why I’m a recluse in a world of colour

Had I not been a poet, with my whims and swings of anger

Would we be like those paintings, still together?


20 thoughts on “Artists on the Boulevard

  1. nabanita March 16, 2016 / 10:40 AM

    I read it twice and it still cannot find an appropriate word to describe how beautiful this is…Kind of like a book which takes you back in time, away from everything and engulfs you even after the last page is done…

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sreesha Diva March 21, 2016 / 9:42 AM

      Oh Naba, your comment is so sweet and kind! Thank you 🙂


  2. Beat About The Book March 17, 2016 / 5:49 PM

    Your poem conjured such beautiful images and yet it was sad too. The what ifs in a relationship are the toughest to contend with.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sreesha Diva March 21, 2016 / 9:45 AM

      Exactly, especially when one is temperamental and you can’t even blame the other person for leaving. All we’re left with is memories.
      Thanks for reading, Tulika! 🙂


  3. floormodel March 22, 2016 / 6:57 PM

    what a wonderful story you draw

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Soumya Prasad March 31, 2016 / 1:08 PM

    This is one of the best piece of writing that I have read. Ever!

    So beautiful and speaks so much. The love, the pain, the feelings, the colors!! Oh I’m in love with it! ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sreesha Diva March 31, 2016 / 10:14 PM

      Thank you so much!! Super glad you liked it 🙂 ❤


  5. Grace April 1, 2016 / 5:41 PM

    I think fellow artists share the same bond and affinity ~ And I enjoy seeing those artists paint in the open streets ~

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sreesha Diva April 7, 2016 / 4:27 PM

      Yes! Artists – writers, painters, everyone – are birds of the same feather!


  6. Sumana Roy April 1, 2016 / 8:58 PM

    This is so nicely written….ummm….I had to select all the words to read properly in blue-white contrast…it would also be lovely if the fonts were a bit larger….

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sreesha Diva April 7, 2016 / 4:32 PM

      Hey Sumana! Thanks for the feedback. Could you please confirm if you’re seeing blue text/white background (or vice versa)? Also, are you viewing it on mobile or PC? The colour scheme is black text on white background, so I’m unable to figure out where you’re seeing the blue-white contrast. I’ll surely correct it once you confirm. Thanks! 🙂


  7. navasolanature April 2, 2016 / 2:14 AM

    This conveys the conflict of withdrawing for art and needing to be out there in the world or boulevard. Lovely images.

    Liked by 1 person

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