Lady Of Fayum Poem by Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)

Do you know
you are about to die?

Did you know
you were about to die?
Was this naturalistic
painted portrait

upon choice wooden panel
commissioned veritable
painted prior
to encroaching death?

Prestigious portrait
face covering inserted
brilliant colours bright
in far gaze farewell

in height of Roman fashion
in hair styles clothes jewelry
in lifelike rank status realistic
loving verisimilitude memory

attached to cloth
embalming mummy
bandages as funeral
custom dictated.

Noble fee paid portrait
beautifully painted
in encaustic veneer upon
previously prepared

coated receptive surface
contains rich beeswax
mixed with pigments
to retain colour intensity.

Shoulders life beat breast
in pose three-quarter view
head almost fully frontal
slightly tilted far sight left.

No melancholy serene pallor
wrinkleless yet no lip telling
tragedy confessed contempt
in tribute commissioned artist

a youthful time typical death
bitterly felt sorrow not shown
upon contemplated impending
parting agony approaching death.

Bitter fruit to mourn loss saviour
seen is no putrid plaintive flesh.

Admire a long fine chiseled
aristocratic white cosmetic face
framed beauty dark hair taken
up in allure neck display bun.

Face dominated
by large black eyes
dark stencil eyelids
black eyebrows.

Light brush strokes
visible on life neck
highlights on one side
of admire depicted face.

An undeceived mouth
underscores soliloquy dialogue
innocent antique visage
denounces harboured melancholy.

Jewelery adorned fine clothing
chosen mayhap for social status
rendered bold sure brushstrokes
culminates in an enlivened effigy.

Masterpiece impression mesmerizes
one attenuating successful naturalism
attests this painter well these passions
imparted upon a lifeless wooden panel.

Portrait tells no adieu valediction
to those you mannequin leave
who you may yearn for fear for
lovingly cherished throbbed for?

Now framed soul you are stripped
of life animated regenerating passion.
Across an age sands fallen bygone
you reader of these words stare upon...

despair maestro melodrama encapsulated
voyeurs of pathos pain vessel distilled.
Impossible to embrace or smile comfort
locked within a gaze lost in far antiquity.


Copyright © Terence George Craddock
http: //www.poemhunter.com/terence-george-craddock/