Artie the Artist

Artie the Artist loved to paint, sketch, and draw
And he captured through art all the things that he saw,
In real life, or his very imag'native mind,
He'd create things of beauty from all he could find.
From pencil-sketched portraits, to pastel sunrises,
Artie's creative mind was so full of surprises!

From the sun 'gainst the blue sky, to the dew-sparkled grass,
No wonder of nature could ever get past
Little Artie, who'd be there with sketchbook in hand,
For his favourite moments were always unplanned.

But one fateful morning, a Sunday, I think,
While Artie was drawing, in delicate pink,
A beautiful flower, a fragrant young rose,
He ran out of paper! The art store was closed
Because it was Sunday! What was Artie to do?
He furrowed his brow, thought it out through and through,
'Till the answer, it came, like a beacon of light:
Said Artie, "I'll use ev'ry surface in sight,
As my personal canvas. The walls, floor, and ceiling
Will provide me a place that is oh so appealing
To draw, sketch, and colour, to my heart's content!"
So into the house to get started, he went!

By the end of the day, Artie's drawings abounded
Throughout the whole house, but his mom was astounded
When she saw in the kitchen, about eight feet tall,
A majestic red dragon (who filled a whole wall),
Holding hands with a princess, who'd become his best friend
(As all fairy tales should invariably end).

Artie's mom was impressed, but quite angry as well,
And try as he might, Artie couldn't dispel
His mom's white-hot anger. "The house is destroyed!";
She exclaimed in a fury, "I'm very annoyed!"

Poor Artie was sad, for he'd worked very hard,
But undaunted, he headed back out to the yard.
He picked up a paintbrush, and sat down and thought,
"Since Mom didn't react in the way that she ought,
I won't paint in the house, I'll do it outside!
That way, by her rules, I'll surely abide!"

So, pleased that he'd found a solution so quick,
Artie started to paint the outside walls of brick.
He drew scenes of fancy, of castles, and knights,
And of pink skies at dusk, blushing with Northern Lights.
He painted a cowboy scene on the garage,
On the roof, he created a giant collage
Of pop cans, Starburst wrappers, and chewing-gum foil.
Quite sweet were the fruits of his long day of toil
For the yard was now vibrant with Artie's creations
And Artie himself was aglow with elation.

But, as soon as he'd finished, someone knocked at the door,
And, to Artie's surprise, that person implored,
"I was wondering, could you please show me around?
For, such a beautiful house, I never have found.
You took your plain dwelling, and gave it panache!"
And before Artie knew it, at once, in a flash,
Crowds of people were lining up, all 'round the block,
Though the line was so long, they remained 'round the clock,
To see Artie's masterpiece in which he lived,
There was nothing these people weren't willing to give.

They came with big eyes, and cameras, and camcorders,
'Round lunchtime, there was even a crowd of reporters!
For the six o'clock news, on Channel Thirteen,
But Artie's mom sure wasn't pleased with this scene!
"Artie!" she yelled, in extreme indignation,
"Your artwork has caused me far too much frustration!
I warned you, you ignored me, and now I am moving,
Until this chaos shows some signs of improving!"

So she packed up her bags, and moved in with her sis,
And at first, Artie's life was perpetual bliss!
He drew on the ceilings, floors, windows, and walls,
Without any regard for Mom's wishes at all!
He ate Twinkies for breakfast, and ice cream for dinner,
And said to himself, "I sure came off a winner!
For my live-in museum of my latest creations,
Draws enough of a crowd to provide satiation.
I'm rich, and I'm famous, I'm completely content.
Good riddance to Mother, wherever she went!"

But junk food for breakfast, it quickly got old,
And Artie even missed doing what he was told.
So one day, he decided to pack his suitcase,
To go see his mother, at his Aunt Mary's place.
When Artie got there, he was utterly stunned,
For his mom wasn't happy; she missed her young son.
"Oh, Artie!" she said, "I'm so sorry I bailed,"
"As your mom and role model, I've totally failed!"
I should have encouraged your infinite talents,
So when we get home, I'll pick up a palette,
I'll draw with you, paint with you, cheer on your dreams,
Even if your methods are somewhat extreme."

So they both went back home, with their palettes in hand,
And Artie was happy to've helped Mom understand,
That art was his passion, and share it with her,
And as a mom-and-son team, many works they procured,
That earned people's amazement, that drew people in crowds,
But it wasn't the artwork that made them most proud.
For Mom now encouraged what she'd once disallowed!

And in light of all this, Artie hardly did care
'Bout his rip-roaring fame as artiste extroardinare.
But by seeing his mom as she drew on the walls,
(And evidently, she was having a ball),
Artie soon figured out that the secret of art
Had nothing to do with being clever or smart.
All that was required, he already did,
And that was to preserve the soul of a kid.