Young Rene

Young Rene stepped out
Out from the museum's marble floor
Out from the toned confines
Of the gallery's walls its halls
Out into the wild world its crazy forms
Trying to recapture in words
Its raw beauty
Its refined tenderness
Like what had been depicted
By the masterpieces he had witnessed
With his own eyes
His own heart

He felt deep down to the depths of his soul
Not that he wanted to reproduce the masters
Now dead and buried
Some for hundreds of years
But that he wanted to feel a kinship
With beings who at one time felt similar to him
About his art
About his gift
About his explorations
Akin to the sensibilities
Of this collection of painters
These breakers of new ground
These front-line soldiers
Along the continuum of human expression

But how could this be accomplished
It is always so difficult to match one mode of human expression
With another
Trying to parallel the style
The grace
The touch
In a different medium

Still the expressions that their paints and strokes
Tried to capture and share
The colors the textures
It had all intrigued Young Rene
He felt overwhelmed as he stepped out
Out from the museum's marble floor
Out from the toned confines
Of the gallery's walls its halls
Out into the wild world its crazy forms
It all had imbued in him a burning desire
To capture in words
Its raw beauty
Its refined tenderness
Like had been depicted
By the masterpieces he had witnessed
With his eyes
With his heart

For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Dec. 18, 2012