Technicians [Poem]

This is a poem DS Maolalai.

and he had thought 

that he could easily

have been a decent painter

if only he’d been driven

to paint. 

but there they were,

sitting by the sofa,

bought in a fit 

of unfocused ambition – 

the box of oils

and the three 

small canvases, 

purchased on the day

he’d taken from work

with a burst 

of stupid confidence. time

he’d thought, to conquer

another artform. but the thing

was, once they were there,

all the pictures

were gone. all the ideas,

the artistry – the way image

comes with movement, like a boat

on choppy water. 

and he’d seen people paint – 

a very technical process.

he saw the colour,

and it was blue,

but how could blue

apply to him

and his dumb fingers

and hands? better 

leave it somewhere 

for someone

else to find. poetry, so easy to write down.


more technical.

you need training.

S Maolalai has been nominated seven times for Best of the Net and three times for the Pushcart Prize. His poetry has been released in two collections, “Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden” (Encircle Press, 2016) and “Sad Havoc Among the Birds” (Turas Press, 2019).


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