A storm is riding on the tide;
Grey is the day and grey the tide,
Far-off the sea-gulls wheel and cry--
A storm draws near upon the tide.
A city lifts its minarets
To winds that from the desert sweep;
And prisoned Arab women weep
Below the domes and minarets.
Upon a hill in Thessaly
Stand broken columns in a line
About a cold forgoten shrine,
Beneath a moon in Thessaly
But in the world there is no place
So desolate as your tragic face.
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Comments1Hey! I came across your poem and really liked the atmosphere and imagery in it. I could genuinely see some of its moments being brought to life through artwork.
I'm a commission-based artist specializing in custom illustrations, character artwork, and book covers. I create artwork specifically around the mood, ideas, and imagery of someone's writing, and I keep my commissions budget-friendly.
If you're interested in having artwork created for your poem, feel free to contact me directly at: [email protected]
I'd be happy to share some ideas for what I could create for your poem and work with you to bring it visually to life.