A diamond short, a decade late
I come to stand outside your gate
Unlock and open, let me in
Forgive me, love; what is my sin?
I come to stand outside your gate
Unlock and open, let me in
Forgive me, love; what is my sin?
I fled from you across the land
But now I ask you for your hand
A decade late, a diamond short
I can't imagine why you snort
But now I ask you for your hand
A decade late, a diamond short
I can't imagine why you snort
My limbs are frail, my breath is cold
I must admit I may look old
I fall, I kneel, why—I implore
You are the woman I adore
I must admit I may look old
I fall, I kneel, why—I implore
You are the woman I adore
I feel so weak, I feel so brittle
Don't touch! I may be impotent a little
You loved me once—or so I thought
Stop! Take your fingers off my throat—
Don't touch! I may be impotent a little
You loved me once—or so I thought
Stop! Take your fingers off my throat—
I painted Late Lover from the point of view of the girl he had left behind. She and you, the observer, are one. He is yearning to come back home. A blue cape is flung around his shoulders, which allows the eye to stay with him, rather than drift off to the background, seen in the spaces between his flimsy ribs. More importantly, you can see the withered flowers he lays at your feet, and the ring being cast off your finger, straight onto his head. The words 'A diamond short, a decade late' are carved into the door frame, perhaps with your fingernails, scratching letter after letter over the long-drawn-out years of waiting for him...
Having painted him all day, the voice of Late Lover came to me at night. The next morning I wrote his poem down in a single breath, and never made any corrections, never replaced a word or adjusted the rhythm--because it came to me completely ready.
Excellent work Uvi.
ReplyDeleteYou are important and very much so !
Keep writing and your message will grow !
Thank you so much Syed for your gracious comment!
ReplyDeleteI don't know how you find time to do so much. Whenever you write a blog it's so insightful, deep and filled with meaning... Not to mention the sheer elegant beauty of your art. You are an exquisite, gifted woman and will go far.
ReplyDeleteThis is an elegant skeleton; never knew there was such a thing. He looks almost dapper; a man of the twenties, cape and all. Great colors...
Hugs and thanks for sharing. I'll share your works on my TimeLIne from time to time.
Betty Dravis, author of SIX-PACK OF BLOOD
The cape was necessary not only because he was shivering a little, out there in the cold, but also because without it, the skeleton becomes somewhat transparent, since you see the background in the spaces between his bones...
DeleteThank you Betty. Good night.
P.S. I find it difficult to read the small type of the poem. It appears about 9 point? I'm used to 12 point font. Getting older. :-)
ReplyDeleteHugs again - Betty
You were right! The font was indeed small, and I increased it. Thanks for letting me know.
DeleteWonderful painting...and such a great poem. I am loving it!
ReplyDeleteThank you Mystic Mom!
DeleteAmazing drawomg. Very nicely done.
ReplyDeleteAnd the poem? well, very nicely written. Love it. Thank you for posting.
Thank you so much, Talon! Don't know how I missed your comment for three days...
Delete