This piece is written off the painting entitled 'Ophelia' by John William Waterhouse
tinyurl.com/8j9pr
Art work produces feelings that go beyond what is merely the subject matter painted on the canvas.
For gently contoured features, smoothed like finest marble
Are yet just as cold to fingers touch as death.
Already, has this life begun to ebb itself way
To fill the empty shell of impending insanity.
The fate of sweet Ophelia to be watched from yonder bridge
To stand within her own world, wretched and so alone.
For there shall be no companion on this, her final journey
The calming scent of morning dew, as fragrant as Oregano
Or mint tea upon those rose petal lips
Is the colour of the waterside grasses
Where steadying herself against ancient Willow
With tentative step her dainty foot is placed
And with free hand she lifts her skirt from dampened grass
That its hem will escape capture by the thorns of the clinging Dog Rose
That, in vain hope of delaying her progress, attempts to snag the cloth
And there around the top of her dress
Are found the finest of stitches
To adorn the soft flesh about her delicate neck
Faint as lines traced by inquisitive fingers
Across the canvas on which are painted all desires.
She wears her gown like the warmth of love's embrace, clinging
So closely to her form that tender hand upon her slender waist
Would ne'er even detect its presence
For its satin touch so mirrors her porcelain flesh.
And in every falling fold of material
Are the soft colours of nights spend in wakeful lament
Upon crushed velvet bed sheets,
Such are the folds within her dress
For there is found the hint of subtle lilac
And there woven within her flowing hair
Are the fragile poppy blooms and fragrant daisies
Petals as cool as spring water centred with the warmth of sunshine
For in their ethereal majesty, is their mistress mirrored
With gentleness
With innocence of spirit
Purity of thought
And most loyal love
Poetry by blondeoverblue
Read 545 times
Written on 2005-07-11 at 00:50
Tags Sadness
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
tinyurl.com/8j9pr
Art work produces feelings that go beyond what is merely the subject matter painted on the canvas.
Sweet Ophelia
Sad regret plays fully here with fear and haunting madnessFor gently contoured features, smoothed like finest marble
Are yet just as cold to fingers touch as death.
Already, has this life begun to ebb itself way
To fill the empty shell of impending insanity.
The fate of sweet Ophelia to be watched from yonder bridge
To stand within her own world, wretched and so alone.
For there shall be no companion on this, her final journey
The calming scent of morning dew, as fragrant as Oregano
Or mint tea upon those rose petal lips
Is the colour of the waterside grasses
Where steadying herself against ancient Willow
With tentative step her dainty foot is placed
And with free hand she lifts her skirt from dampened grass
That its hem will escape capture by the thorns of the clinging Dog Rose
That, in vain hope of delaying her progress, attempts to snag the cloth
And there around the top of her dress
Are found the finest of stitches
To adorn the soft flesh about her delicate neck
Faint as lines traced by inquisitive fingers
Across the canvas on which are painted all desires.
She wears her gown like the warmth of love's embrace, clinging
So closely to her form that tender hand upon her slender waist
Would ne'er even detect its presence
For its satin touch so mirrors her porcelain flesh.
And in every falling fold of material
Are the soft colours of nights spend in wakeful lament
Upon crushed velvet bed sheets,
Such are the folds within her dress
For there is found the hint of subtle lilac
And there woven within her flowing hair
Are the fragile poppy blooms and fragrant daisies
Petals as cool as spring water centred with the warmth of sunshine
For in their ethereal majesty, is their mistress mirrored
With gentleness
With innocence of spirit
Purity of thought
And most loyal love
Poetry by blondeoverblue
Read 545 times
Written on 2005-07-11 at 00:50
Tags Sadness
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
chasingtheday |
