I paint with oils
On canvas blank
Your form and face
And through the night
While candle burns
Your image is

With swirl of brush
And splattered paint
Each stroke you’re more
And as your image
So arrives
Your wickedness
Is given.

As picture forms
And colors glow
Your beauty seen
So clearly.
This frozen point
Of coloured time
Shows why you love

This work of art
That flows from me
So ready to be
Reveals to all
That gazes here
Why I am so


6 Responses to Portrait

  1. Portrayed perfectly in words. A really lovely poem, Simon.

  2. Jules Lucton says:

    Goose pimples. Not sure why – just saying that’s what it did for me. Stirs up so much stuff, and I love it. Sharing, thanks x

  3. fibee5 says:

    loved the last two stanzas the most 🙂 beautiful words

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