Treasure Island

Aria Siren

Painter's Muse

The wet brush touched me
Shivering under a tree
The day he painted me

Blue strokes up my stomach
Red across my breast
Each stroke a question mark
Exhaling dreams into my chest

I was his-but he wasn't mine
The only face I knew
The scent of sun and turpentine
The scratch of the pencil as he drew

My hair was red and windy
Eyes green and sad
'O mysterious muse'-said he
Your heart beats outside of its' cage
In the colour of your dreams you are clad

The wet brush touched me
Shivering under a tree
The day he painted me

Submitted: Thursday, February 14, 2013

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Comments about this poem (Painter's Muse by Aria Siren )

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  • Titi Dale (3/16/2013 8:11:00 PM)

    I like your style, Aria :) you have such intense emotion and express wonderful emotion in your poems, thanks for your share: P (Report) Reply

  • Sandy Player (2/22/2013 4:10:00 AM)

    The introductatory and concluding three-liners find themselves nicely placed as if they were portals leading and following out of a dream of a true world. I do like to think despite the passages describing the paint on you that it is only a metaphor for how fantastical and detailed this paint is; how it touches you within. Because it would then match so well with the next stanza on how you were his but he wasnt mine; the dreamt closeness and the real distance; body art and canvas paint.

    The language and images of this poem really interest me; there is a wild even avant garde scene yet it seems as though it is still sublime and serene; the rhyme really helped there; it made it dream like and kept it civil where i would have seemed overly sensuous had not it rhymed.

    I have read two of your poems so far and i believe i am right in saying they both focus on one sidedness in love. Though the difference between this and the other is huge, not least because the other is forced dominance and this is apparantly the chasing of an impossible dream by the narrator. The feeling created is phenomanal; I even think that the smoothness of paint on paper is seen through the smoothness of this poem. You are very versatile, i am very impressed. (Report) Reply

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