He stares at the canvas devoid of any color
like a woman who yearns for her lover’s soft caress
it beckons to him and softly whispers his name
Reds and blues unite to create the object of his desire
as the colors of rapture and ecstasy
mingle with his tears of pain
Using his brush he slowly coaxes her image to the surface
in his mind’s eye her beauty will never diminish
she will always remain his sweet rose and his passion
He stares at the ghost whose eyes make silent accusations
why did you leave me
why did you never return
He opens his lips but no sound escapes
for he knows his words
would only come out as false and lies
He remembers being by her side
a heart beat a second too late
she was now beyond this world of mortals
He stares at the canvas devoid of any color
it beckons to him and softly whispers his name
in his mind’s eye she will always be his sweet rose
(This a poem about love and obsession. An artist lost his love and his sanity. All he paints are portraits of his beautiful Lady Rose, who he lost while he sought fame and fourtune.)
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Comments: 12
Audrey one question what do you mean by unwelcomed.
Wonderful Juan. Quality like this should be posted on poeticworldforum.com. I'm a member there and you would add so much to that site.
I also like the sense of flurry regarding his 'artistic activity' and his emptiness is reiterated well by your having used the first part of the poem again at the end.
A very good poem to spend time reading. Good reminder, too, of the brevity of life.