It was the vanishing
crispy perfume
of the golden air that
had brought stupor
in the rebels’ voices
their songs for ever
stamped on mother's
soil before winter.
Some spaces caught up
within, swirled
dancing traditions,
are empty,
others are frozen
rough to the touch,
in the sky the purple
orange of dusk
turns red, slowly
transformed, by icy winds
along the 60th parallel.
Delicate paintings,
sophisticated engravings
on silver plates,
laced in complex
patterns, softly speak
of history, in a mix of
green and red, they
tell of a milder truth
to be grasped eventually
by generations still to come.
Author notes
The picture is a lacqer miniature found on this link:
http://www.dailyinfo.co.uk/reviews/feature/564/Russian+Art/
A contest entry
- October's Stun by CarolDesjarlais.
525 points, ended October 29, 2007, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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I think you did very well with this piece and it totally captures the feeling in this picture which I have received permission now to use. Interesting how softly romantic this is - with its almost Dr. Zhivago-like feel of swirling cold mingled with perfume & political innuendos of the October uprising - I'll definitely be including this.
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Thank you ever so much for the nice comment and the Zhivago zest I love those feeling of old Russian style.
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So many, here in the West, have absolutely no idea how gray and gold are glittered with istory. Beautifully penned.
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Thank you so much for the comment and the nice contest.
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I like this I red it fast and slow and it was smooth both times. There are tons of excellent images in this
and it was a true joy to read.
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This is truly lovely....
a beautiful painting of time and thought...
Very well done.
Your have created an image far more lovely than any painting could ever achieve.
Blessings! Tammy
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