Paper and Parchment, Love and Lost

a Shakespearean love poem born of fantasy

I write my woman on the wall.
Drawn in words and letters.
Clothed only in the tenderest of ink,
loosely splayed across her shoulders
and down her wispy back.
Flowing,
Catching a gust of wind as
she steps off the wallpaper.
We greet as only two lost lovers can...
A tight embrace...
of lips.
of hips.
I can feel her, hold her,
know she's mine
fondle her softly...
(she may tear if I am not gentle).
My quill dips and flutters,
and now her hair develops -
envelopes my hand.
As red as dawn,
(for the color of the sun itself
would be painful to stare at
for such long periods of time.)
She is not painful.
For she is nothing but a visage.
Yet my black jar is full,
so my descriptions may
linger...
Her skin now resembles my own
(Not unlike a rose petal)
it has texture and taste...
so sweet,
so full,
as warm as candlelight
that makes her glow in the dark.
So warm she burns me.
Her hair becomes black.
Her skin now parchment
and flaking against my skin.
My stained fingernails straining
to grasp one last hold
of her heaving bosom,
but...
her smooth features fade.
Once again,
resembling simple scrawling,
of the words that so delicately describe her.

The shadows consume her,
and yet
my thoughts linger,
so real
To me...
As real as the candle
that makes her glow in the night.
And burn.
Even the flames
cannot dry my cheeks
as my only everything
slowly cracks and floats
away on a gale of words,
a wisp of a wish,
and a heart that can bear no more.

Reviews

[The Elder Pine]

Wow this is a stinning piece. Your lines are amazing and engaging, I really enjoyed this piece. Very well done.

"I write my woman on the wall.
Drawn in words and letters.
Clothed only in the tenderest of ink,
loosely splayed across her shoulders
and down her wispy back.
Flowing,
Catching a gust of wind as
she steps off the wallpaper.
We greet as only two lost lovers can...
A tight embrace...
of lips.
of hips.
I can feel her, hold her,
know she's mine
fondle her softly...
(she may tear if I am not gentle).
My quill dips and flutters,
and now her hair develops -
envelopes my hand.
As red as dawn,
(for the color of the sun itself
would be painful to stare at
for such long periods of time.)
She is not painful.
For she is nothing but a visage.
Yet my black jar is full,
so my descriptions may
linger...
Her skin now resembles my own
(Not unlike a rose petal)
it has texture and taste...
so sweet,
so full,
as warm as candle
that makes her glow in the dark.
So warm she burns me.
Her hair becomes black.
Her skin now parchment
and flaking against my skin.
My stained fingernails straining
to grasp one last hold
of her heaving bosom,
but...
her smooth features fade.
Once again,
resembling simple scrawling,
of the words that so delicately describe her.

The shadows consume her,
and yet
my thoughts linger,
so real
To me...
As real as the candle
that makes her glow in the night.
And burn.
Even the flames
cannot dry my cheeks
as my only everything
slowly cracks and floats
away on a gale of words,
a wisp of a wish,
and a heart that can bear no more."

[Ashes of Apathy]

This is an excellent piece of literature. I recognize the Shakespearean influence. A Mid Summer Nights Dream perhaps? The simplicity of the use of your chosen words work well to strenghen the idea that less can definatley be a whole lot more! The emotion seethes and builds in a strong candence that spills over when the intentional pauses let your mind catch up with your eyes. Using the lost women as a candle representation helps to build the foundation that becomes the methaphore that consumes the reader. The comphereson is vivid. It is easy to see why your piece recieved the award. Nicely done sir.
-jr

[Erin]

I absolutely am ENTHRALLED with your style. Am i being self centric when I say you remind me of me? I mean we are both grasping for the same elusive substance out of the air and I just completely get this poem. I love it, you are talented etc. But in all seriousness I love this sort of odd rhythm that is very unique. Excellent job.

[Vincent]

geez, no wonder you won.

[Ani Ashford]

Wow! What a vision of an word-artist/Pygmalion. Oh, fantasy lovers are so fickle, here one minute and gone the next! You make us almost feel the skin and taste that kiss. Methinks you were visited by some Goddess/Muse.

[Emily B]

Absolutely! A new favorite. Have to go vote in a contest now.

[None]

WOW, an incredible poem that flows along so beautifully with surprises and feelings that touch deeply ....
"so sweet, so full, as warm as candle that makes her glow in the dark. So warm she burns me."
and again you tie this image in beautifully....
" As real as the candle that makes her glow in the night. And burn. Even the flames cannot dry my cheeks"
Honestly, this is so full of beautiful images--your imagination brings forth a beautiful tapestry.

[Jaffa Forbes]

very much a sad and mournful song, nicely written.
jaff

[Candle in the wind]

I wish we could clutch on to the wisps of our imagination but then it would not be so ethereal.Your dream woman is like a luminous glow,a dancing flame of a candle.She is a "wisp of a wish".She drifts around like a rose petal.
"The shadows consume her" ...this is how dreams fade away elusively leaving us unsatiated.

[sunlight]

wow this is most special,unique and imaginative

[Paula M. Potter]

I thought this was very beautiful and so eloquently worded good luck in the contest.