Paper and Parchment, Love and Lost

Paper and Parchment, Love and Lost

A Poem by Conrad Wrobel
"

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.

© 2009 Conrad Wrobel


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Featured Review

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."


Posted 13 Years Ago


4 of 4 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

O.O .... Have i told you lately, how utterly talented you are? this is a beautiful BEAUTIFUL poem! and i fail at words so i can't even tell you how TRULY awesome it is! a clever and fanciful piece of work.

miss you hope to hear from you soon
XOXOXOX

Posted 14 Years Ago


5 of 5 people found this review constructive.

I love the language used here.

Posted 14 Years Ago


4 of 4 people found this review constructive.

What a lovely poem...intriquing write...to fall in love per se with one's creations. This is quite stunning. A wonderful tale woven. Thank you for sharing.
Light,
Siddartha


Posted 14 Years Ago


5 of 5 people found this review constructive.


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33 Reviews
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Shelved in 3 Libraries
Added on February 10, 2008
Last Updated on February 18, 2009

Author

Conrad Wrobel
Conrad Wrobel

Eastsound, WA



About
It's lonely in my mind...may I step into yours for a second? I write comedy, scripts, and poetry. I dream of being a successful stand up comedian, and will eventually have something of that nature po.. more..

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