The Austrian Artist

By Simran Bance.

I recall the Austrian Artist.

Who drew the sights of Viennese life,

the buildings tall and streets so narrow,

and the mountains calling for his strokes

He was young and bold, The Austrian Artist.

Who painted the soul of the playing children

their innocent faces yearning for his brushes

their vulnerable smiles craving his detail

Ambitious and brave, The Austrian Artist.

Who poured reality onto his canvas,

the colours seeping into the threads

the colours of a perfect world

He saw the flaws, The Austrian Artist.

Who stained the canvas in his passion,

who dragged his paint brush through the red,

with anguish and hate in a wildly fashion.

Then rose above and stamped his work,

A black cross with broken arms

with guilty faces turning cold

flourishing by the painter’s charms

then stepped back to adore his work

the future shining through the picture

a master piece for a master race

then signed proudly. Adolf Hitler.