Southern Belle Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

‘She was a gifted Southern Belle, ’
My grieving friend revealed,
‘an artist many knew quite well,
outstanding in her field.

The white magnolia over there, ’
She noted of a scene,
‘done in rich oils with love and care,
won prizes much esteemed.’

Some months went by, my friend had moved
When she gave me a call -
‘To share her paints mom would approve
I cannot keep them all.’

She still looked much like she had then
Quite prim, though touched with grief
As we sat in my sunny den
Sipped tea, a small relief

She then spread boxes on the floor -
Fine brushes, papers rare
Flax canvases and oils galore
All packed with tender care

‘My mother’s treasures, in my heart
‘I know you’ll honor, use,
creating awe-inspiring art
renewing her fair muse.’

I took her gifts with gratitude
Since my own stash was small,
But when she left in solitude
My joy turned to a pall

I lay there, fingering those paints
As eyes began to fill
Remembering so many taints
That blocked my painting skill

Years passed as cares and heartaches grew
Untouched those precious finds
In hidden closets still brand new
They festered in my mind

Remembering that funeral
Of one fine Southern Belle
I feared at my grim reaper’s call
Tales full of woe I’d tell

How sad a painter left untouched
So many fine supplies
While tides and seasons slowly watched
Her life ebb in time’s vize

Perhaps the key of poetry
Can broach that hidden cave
Where love and freedom wait for me
A muddled, much chained slave

The poet’s muse now gently sings
From far off, sunlit seas,
‘This very poem can give you wings,
unblock that stubborn freeze.’

I then resolved to find my nerve
And seize those untouched tools
Carve healing from a yoke reserved
For artists and for fools

I’d open gifts to be pursued
By mortals and by saints
And dying, never leave unused
Clean papers, untouched paints

‘She was a gifted Southern Belle, ’
My grieving friend revealed,
‘an artist many knew quite well,
outstanding in her field.’