Inspired by a painting.


Plotting out your novel
in the rain,
or so I imagine.

I struggled with Ulysses,
didn't get past the first five pages
to be honest.

You wouldn't kneel
at your mother's bedside,
standing up against Catholicism
even in death.

Your get rich quick schemes
failed, until you acquired a patron.

Still you squandered the money
every chance
on wine.

We'll never know much about
your daughter,
the letters burned
by an overzealous relative.

Many eye surgeries later,
Joyce and an umbrella,
woman on his arm,
in the rain.

July 31, 2008
2008 Anne Westlund

Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 609 times
Written on 2008-08-03 at 05:32

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Kathy Lockhart
Gosh, this paints an abstract picture with an underlying feel of indifference and a wide range of possibilities. : ) kathy

Winston Latanafrancia Soldevilla
I did not see the painting really, but you got a very clear picture of the painting story. You have a heart of a painter. How are you today my friend?