About your hair
The flowers
That you picked
When a child
Now a paintbrush
Captures death
Awaiting your
Sunrise.
The room it drains
In fading light
Upon grieving pain
Lost in flight
A kiss farewell
In colour fills
A broken heart.
Sorrow it spills.
In a moment frozen
Centre stage
Art peforms
Its unspoken page
Image begs
Please release
My deepest loss
To eternal sleep.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: April 7th, 2026 01:55
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 33
- Users favorite of this poem: Lorenz
Offline)
Comments4
A fine write N.
If that gal was only sleeping, she could have been waiting for the No.7 bus, and the artist got her a bed to lie down on, as she was waiting so long, and painted her at the bus stop! lol.
good idea he could have painted the bus depot too lol
lol
This poem seems almost classical in its form and speaks in romantic passion. Very nicely written, Norman.
most kind, thanking you, always appreciated
You are most welcome
Haunting write. The short sentences were a great chocie to build that tension which carries the message beautifully. Well done
kind comments, thanking you always appreciated
A very victorian poetic perspective.
Thanks Lorenz, always appreciate your comments
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