Poem – “The Easel and the Sturdy Form” – Romance – 11/23/2019

Great ripped veil,
Above thy blessed nose,
And the music around,
The sturdy form painted by my brush.
You are lonely without a kiss,
Dear little one.
With fame and might, pleasure and spite,
Beauty was all you knew.
And the pain was all you grew,
Beneath arms,
Cradled like infants, in their hollow selves,
All dead, and worn,
Like ice upon a rash,
Beauty is one terrible device,
With its sounds like sighs of the wind.

I paint what I see,
And hate it when you plea.
I face your smile,
And your shell.
Death is a place you’ll always know,
With your eyes and desires, upon hollow trumpets,

At the command of God’s favorite composer.
I paint what I see,
And despise it when you plea
As winter arrives to share itself with a moon,
And summer will die with the sun,
At its brightest place,
Being where forests burn and tapestries are hung.

Love holds when it is cold,
Though, you’ll be without warmth when the leaves arrive.

Summon up all your strength,
To see the ocean at the command of reigns.
All faces are heavy,
When cast upon your own.

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