“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label portraiture poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label portraiture poem. Show all posts
Saturday, April 2, 2016
Dated 1432
Dated 1432
and here I am
looking...
If the artist
could only look back
too,
me admiring...
Transfixed.
And amongst
a lavish soiree
a veritas bouquet
death and life
displayed and splayed
out-
hung crucified-
elaborated suffering, of the antiquity.
The lives
in the stills.
The (pro)posed lives
in the pastorals.
The captured chrysalis,
by stroke.
In wealthy company of all this
excessive impression
is-tic motif-
the money felt misplaced,
so it said subjectively.
And those people holding place
in the Portraiture room
-No Photographs-
needed.
the encounter is etched,
with abrasive stares-
over time.
On the walls
the writing of fates
in gilt frames
of a frozen time
of a minds eye
that was never there
but now,
while I am looking back
and there.
Image of painting by Cornelis Bisschop (not the one referenced in this poem) Allegory on the Raid at Chatham dated 1667 [Public domain, Public domain or CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.
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