A glance along the tranquil waters
enveloped in the mildest mist.
The lake is yearning for the vapours
to slide aside and let the moon
be mirrored in its glazed nostalgia-woven
glass, on which the willows draw
thin silver feathers with their fingers
like long and lithe down-swaying whips.
Eloping with the lunar aura,
a looming, blooming louche of clouds
reflects for but a blinking moment
before the whisper of the wind
lay over all a silken cover,
adorned with sequins topaz-blue,
with aquamarine plumes of lustre
and trimmed with trinkling lullabies.
Alas, this landscape-writ sonata
of melancholic melodies
shall last the night and then shall wither,
shall wilt before the crack of dawn
draws cracks upon the newborn painting.
Sunk to the bottom of the lake,
the artist sleeps and waits for nightfall,
when the lost canvas is retrieved.
5 comments:
This is poetry of dark!! The portrait of the landscape and the sarcastic ending is awesome..nice write..thanks for sharing!!
J.C
This is incredible. Actually incredible. "like long and lithe down-swaying whips." the consonance and metre of the whole thing is superb. If I had more time I'd look for more detail, but way to go.
This was engulfed in the anointment of mystical...the movements within this script allure the minds eye...entranced.....eloping the lunar aura..how delightful...your depictions in this were well captured and described with soothing precision....i think the "lost canvas" is in front of me....brilliant my friend, absolutely breath taking.
Thanks, I'm immensely flattered! For this one I played a little bit with alliteration and assonance, and tried using a lot of sonorants to give it a more liquid sound. The images just came with the words. I Love when writing comes so easy.
The internal rhyme smoothly unfolds delectable imagery.... such a natural super naturalism... magical realism, perhaps... seeing the everyday from an enchanted eye.... such a vision... such a silky voice does describe.... well crafted.
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