“…our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that is a portrait of someone important to you. It doesn’t need to focus so much on what a person looks (or looked) like, as what they are or were. If you need inspiration, here’s one of my favorite portrait poems.”
Beneath those searing blue eyes
Which melt me, I see your scoffing smile—
You think me audacious, call the idea
Repetitive, redundant—that I should
Paint yet another word-portrait of
Artist loved only by his loyal wife, and
Faraway woman who ne’er navigated
Consistently calm waters in anything
Close to a seaworthy vessel.
Perhaps you seek to hide that you’re flattered,
Honored—reckoning my talent equal
To your acrylic canvases, woodblock prints.
Or maybe you’re annoyed, merely an off mood…
I’m too old be be frightened by your irritability;
Walked too many miles on sharp lava-rock road,
Peopled by characters you’d not have spared glance.
Bitter? I’ve simply grown tough tortoise shell.
It amuses me to watch grown men quake
At the frown on my short frumpy-figured face.
I’ve been characterized as one who
Doesn’t take s–t from anybody—and
Where do you suppose I learned that?
Ah, I see your gaze sparkles Aegean—
Yes, you’re the man quoted as saying:
“I don’t kiss ass for anyone.”
You taught me well, Love—and never realized.
The first 25 years I defended you fiercely,
Took humiliation’s lonely licks.
Then one day I snapped, called you an ‘ogre’,
Agreed everyone else had been right about you.
Time passed…and damn you, you died—
Left me nothing but deafening silent pain;
Alice fallen down well, mutely drowning.
Later the real, delayed grief came sudden,
Cutting through me like daggers of ice,
Tears raining pewter for weeks.
I rallied in the only way I know—
Imagination’s a potent drug, more
Effective than electroshock therapy.
Today I look fondly—heart in full swell—
At your pensive picture…tender memories
Returned and embellished, embroidered
In rich filigree…pulsing with spring’s new life,
Words pour…in every shade and hue,
Of always forget-me-not blue.
I fill lines which may weary readers,
And care not one scintilla.
Nights, your shadow drifts ’round
The room, finally rests beside me—dreamworld
Sifting stardust, embraced protectively.
© R L Cadillac, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.
Image ~ Pixabay
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