Sign up now for a
Free Email Account &
your own Online
Writing Portfolio!
Username:
Password:  
Sponsored Items

Click Here To Bid  

Read a Newbie
Badges
Angel
Presented To:
Medic Mike

Testimonials
Tell a Friend
Know someone who'd
like this page?

Email Address:

Optional Comment:

Who's Online?
Members: 424    
Guests: 1090    

   
Total Online Now: 1514    
Writing.Com Time

Wednesday
February 15, 2012
1:20pm EST


  >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Romance/Love >> ID #1478618  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
The Painter
A painter trying to recapture the image of his true love
Rated:
ASR
by
Avg Rating: (8)
The Painter


Standing before her, his look is pensive
A frown of ardent concentration
Upon his handsome face;
One hand deep in his pocket
Fingering specks of cotton.

Shifting his weight, still undecided
Picks up a brush, eyes with hesitation
Some detail she cannot fathom;
Flecks of light upon his cheek
Where her hand had lingered so often.

Brush now drenched in aubergine hue
A smile of remembered conflagration
Flickers deep in his sienna eyes;
Broadly strokes the contours of velvet
Her pale naked skin softened and glossed.

Takes one step back, observing his progress
Mixes shades for precise pigmentation
Cornflower blue look back from the canvas;
With each tiny stroke grows more impatient
To bring back to life the love that he lost.

Moves with graceful strokes perfecting the image
Painted from memories of lust and temptation;
Her violet lips begging for kisses
Long, slender fingers that once touched his skin
Now resting, elegantly idle upon his chair.

Standing before her, his look is pensive
Craving smile hides a painful sensation
Spreading upon his handsome face;
Adds emerald stone to ring on her finger
Such as the one he once gave to her.

Her long golden hair framing her features
A loving smile has formed on his creation
His head inclined, lost in his thoughts;
Holds out a hand as if to touch her
Feeling the wetness of paint on his hand.

Gentle fingers trace her naked shoulders
Resting his face against hers, sighs with frustration:
What use are my strokes if you can’t feel them?
What use are these hands if I can’t touch?

Weeping, he rubs paint off his wedding band.



Thank you to looking for keys in the dark for selecting this poem as winner of Round #5 of
ID: 1431972   (Rated: 13+)
The Tragic Song/Poetry Contest--Round 9 
Enter Tragic Songs/Poems!
by looking for keys in the dark


*Smile* *Delight* *Smile* *Delight* *Smile* *Delight* *Smile* *Delight*

© Copyright 2008 Anne M R Chiles - *published!* (UN: annemrc at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Anne M R Chiles - *published!* has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log In To Leave Feedback
Username:
Password:
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!

All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!