The ModelWho is she they will
whisper in years hence
but he doesn't know that
as draped in wig and
full-length gown he sits
before the blank wall like some
Viola in the Globe and watches
his lover prepare the palette
dim the light.
He readies for days of stillness
the rasp of brush on canvas
the smell of solvents
giving once more his angelic face
and roseate form to genius.
Photo prompt courtesy of Willow. For more stories and poems based on this prompt click here.
4 comments:
suki, you write beautifully, painterly. i read your poems always twice. i used to think i did this to understand better, but i've come to know it so i can hear and feel the rhythm of them.
willow is a wonderful inspiration, eh?
love
kj
Aaah, the "rasp of brush on canvas".
I can actually hear it Suki!
If I never was to ever read any more poetry other than yours and Willow's,,,I could be satisfied.
Along with your wonderful photos. (this header, for example)
You have blended a myriad of images here...much like the Painter, himself applied to tha canvas... you and Tess are "Painters of Words"! Truly it is a pleasure to read your works!
Another lovely Spring day here! sigh.......
Love to you and Bibs!
♥ Robin ♥
I always like this subject because people teased me when I was young by calling me Mona Lisa. Of course I didn't appreciate it until I actually got to see her (him?). Your short story/poem really captures the curiosity that many have had of this painting.
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