A Life-Sized Canvas

In a somewhat similar vein as the last post, I wanted to share something that I wrote.  It could have been in fall semester or sometime in high school–I have few memories of each–but I find these words to give voice to the struggle of not being held down by the pain and the past, while keeping in mind that security of the future is promised to no one.  


“Contradictions for a Canvas”


I’ve got love on my arm,

But hate in my heart.

I’m building a city,

But falling apart.


I’m bound like a slave,

But I’m flying free!

And I know you’re wondering:

How can this be?


Oh I’m a sinner–

But yet I’m a saint!

There’s more of my story,

Canvas still left to paint.



Painting Beauty Among Scars,

The Scribbler


About thefreescribbler

My life is one of words. I am a scribbler, whose thoughts are best expressed through adjectives and phrases and punctuation marks. I would not go so far as to call myself a writer, although many would disagree. I’m characterized more by my unfinished works and half-embodied ideas, scraps of stories and parts of poems. Maybe one day I’ll be a writer, but I’m okay with being a scribbler right now. It fits my personality and style, and best expresses my aims. I’m not trying to create some lofty version of literature. I’m just a kid blogging about life. View all posts by thefreescribbler

2 responses to “A Life-Sized Canvas

  • Pearson Sharp

    You know I usually don’t like poetry, period. Especially amateur poetry. But this is wonderful! I love the rhythm and pacing and cadence… it’s just great. You’ve got some great lines in here, I especially am fond of the last two —there’s more of my story, canvas still left to paint. I see such a great image in those words, it really delivers the metaphor powerfully. Well done. I wish there were more!

    • thefreescribbler

      That’s….incredibly high praise. My writer-ly friends rarely pay such compliments. Thank you, I’m quite humbled. As for more, well…. I think that’s the whole point of the poem, really. We don’t know the ins and outs of what our future holds, but we have dreams that we can chase after, beauty that we can discover–canvas to still paint. It will never come about the way we plan, but it’ll be perfectly beautiful in the end.

      The Scribbler.

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