A Crown of Rust

By Brent M. Jones

Once a thing of class, Once a noble giant, Now sitting alone in the grass

    Rusted from roof to ground Greatness can’t be restored The weather is no friend. 

A new day, faded color With rust a crown that remains The rust some consider art,

Iron, steel, and water reveal Where reality stopped, art began

Thoughts about the Poem

Art is a searching process. People searching for something to create. Where do the artist’s thoughts take them when considering rusted-out automobiles or rusted-out anything?

The color of rust comes from the red family which is a very passionate color and charges the space bringing in lots of energy.

When we create something, we mentally navigate a space of possibilities, searching for a creative solution to evoke a desired sensation.

The choice of the creative instrument is essential, and rust is particularly fascinating: it conveys, not just the destination of the process, but the author's arrival for choice - the search itself.

#rRust #Rustinforms #RustArt #RustReflectsLife