Alfred Sisley
Posted: 26 Mar 2020, 07:22
V2:
Alfred Sisley
He painted his beloved rivers,
borrowing what money he could
for food, paints, brushes…
his name as forgotten
as a concealed layer
of paint.
Even as he was sick
with what his wife had died from,
cancer of the tongue,
he worked on trying to catch
the river’s changing colors,
its light fickle as fish.
Art magazines came to his town
like street corner gossip
eager to share the news
with his neighbors
of the scandalous brushwork
of Renoir and Monet.
How could Alfred compete
with their watery light, spilling
like purses onto canvasses—
their daubs of paint sparkling
like coins in sunlight?
V1:
Alfred Sisley
He painted his beloved rivers,
borrowing what money he could
for food, paints, brushes…
his name as forgotten
as a concealed layer
of paint.
Art magazines came to his town
like street corner gossip
eager to share the news
with his neighbors
of the scandalous brushwork
of Renoir and Monet.
How could Alfred compete
with their watery light, spilling
like purses onto canvasses—
their daubs of paint sparkling
like coins in sunlight?
Alfred Sisley
He painted his beloved rivers,
borrowing what money he could
for food, paints, brushes…
his name as forgotten
as a concealed layer
of paint.
Even as he was sick
with what his wife had died from,
cancer of the tongue,
he worked on trying to catch
the river’s changing colors,
its light fickle as fish.
Art magazines came to his town
like street corner gossip
eager to share the news
with his neighbors
of the scandalous brushwork
of Renoir and Monet.
How could Alfred compete
with their watery light, spilling
like purses onto canvasses—
their daubs of paint sparkling
like coins in sunlight?
V1:
Alfred Sisley
He painted his beloved rivers,
borrowing what money he could
for food, paints, brushes…
his name as forgotten
as a concealed layer
of paint.
Art magazines came to his town
like street corner gossip
eager to share the news
with his neighbors
of the scandalous brushwork
of Renoir and Monet.
How could Alfred compete
with their watery light, spilling
like purses onto canvasses—
their daubs of paint sparkling
like coins in sunlight?