With the stroke of your hand
You splattered upon me
The Jackson Pollock stains
Of your sometimes love
Abstract drips that dangle
And disappear into the vanishing point
Beyond the once blank canvas edge
That cries out to be covered
In colors so brightly bold
With dizzying Dali madness
You've made me a masterpiece
Of mangled moments
Pastel promises drying in the sun
Only to change me into an oily smudge
Pretty, if not perfectly positioned
Under the gallery light of what you call yours
And I am drawn in charcoal
Dark and defined
To stay in the sweet swirl
Of your Monet mouth
So pleasant the soft fields
Blending into bent light shadows
Where you can squeeze all my colors
Liquidity, DeVinci divinity
Til my Mona Lisa smile
Is seen by only you
And I hang in the gallery
Of Your heart
WOW Did you ever succeed in combining your three passions - art, poem, romance - with such energetic language. In fact, energy is the key to this poem, it is the force which makes these various endeavors happen, without it each would be still-born or non-existent. You cited four painters, very different from each other, but in this poem they can stand together on its common ground and contribute their particular strengths to the poem. This poem captures so vividly the process of painting, the sheer sloppiness of working with colors - and feelings.
Beautiful poem, I like the way you compare art and love, true love is a rare masterpiece. And I really like Dali and Monet. I don't know Jackson Pollock I'm not really into abstract, but there is certainly a lot of abstract in love
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh my, I kneel and bow at the poetess' feet Amazing write! A+