Almost Angel Poem by Damian Fisher
Almost Angel
She was an artist, she was a saint
Someone who captured the world with paint
Looking past its myths and lies
Unveiling the beauty to virgin eyes
Each stroke of her brush, so swift and keen
Leaving nothing untouched; a breathing dream
To thunderous rapids and vibrant meadows
And even the shades of the divergent shadows
Once blue fell to azure and white turned to grey
The twilight stained sky marked an end to the day
Despite the cosmic excursions, that awaited her steps
She remained in the presence of life's heavenly gift
The high-tide of night washed over the land
Littered with stars, like a luminous sand
She wanted to stay, but she knew she must leave
For she was enslaved, by a malevolent king
Tailed by a trail of softly wept tears
She traveled the roads until something appeared
The remnants of a village, deprived of its bliss
Which now home the lives of workers and kids
Under the shadow of power, and stricken with fear
The town lay perfectly still under this midnight clear
For when light touched sky, they sprang from their beds
To ensure that king would not cut off their heads
This is an unfinished work of mine that I kind of consider my baby ^^. PLEASE! ! ! if you have any suggestions or comments feel free to leave a comment or a message so that I can make this into my ultimate work. Here is the story that I am telling through this poem. The story is of a girl who is forced to live in the remnants of a pheasant town where the villagers work for their right to live. She on the other hand spends her time in the back country; enraptured by the world's natural beauty. So of course she wants to capture this beauty and bring it to her village. Of course no one visits her shoppe because she doesn't exactly fit in to the intense working cultural that she is trapped within. Later on she is the twisted evil king that has enslaved her town recognized her raw talent and invites her to paint a portrait of him in exchange for her freedom. She instantly agrees... When she attempts to paint the portrait, she has troubles capturing the essence of the king. The first portrait was ugly and so on... This is because she only captures beauty which has no home in the body of the king. Enraged, the king orders the girl to be locked up for eternity where she beaten, raped, and tortured in a dungeon that is isolated from the world she loves. Now, her dreams of living on the land and exploring the world are crushed, and there is no way to free herself from this cold, blood-stained room. As a result, she takes a broken paintbrush which was one of the items that had been left in the room which she uses to paint her final masterpiece. With no paint to use, she cuts herself repeatedly in order to gather the crimson color which she uses for her portrait. As she paints the harvest moon which is engulfed in flames(Flames are said to cleanse the soul) her eyes grow heavy as the blood puddles around her. She entitles the this piece Almost Angel, for she was dying as she created it. There is lays her head in her pool of blood as the nightmare that consumed her life slowly vanishes revealing a void of light that beckons her to capture its beauty. Thank you for taking the time to read this and please disregard all spelling/grammatical errors I may have made while writing this description. It happens to be 4 in the morning ^^ Thanks again D.
A really great poem, like it. A great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, The Sound Of The Strings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 2:16:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
nice thought, nice wording, nice expression, a great work. please my new poems.