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Dali's Tears (Ekphrastic Poem)

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Does it not drip for her as tears turn to blood?

Red would be the better hue

Don't you think Sal...then this dreamy blue?

Being quite literal with your grief's flood.

Perhaps I am too much of a cynic to believe

That your love is now a wave

Crashing upon the shore of her grave

But will rise up to reveal your new Eve.

Pull up the worn wooden chair

As I fill up your glass

So that we may toast to lovers past

And then rinse them from our hair.


Comments (6)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Damn good poem. I like the conversational tone. Just the right length to give it the affect of a punch in the gut. Impressed.

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Thank you. I was bothered by its abruptness but it does give a bit of a 'punch' this way.

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I have a tendancy to concentrate on one particular phrase when I read poems, and in this one, the thought of pulling up a "worn wooden chair" gave me goose bumps. Thanks, I enjoyed this.

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I am glad you enjoyed. Yes, I wanted to have the sense of the chair being scrapped along the floor.

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"Crashing upon the shore of her grave"! So lyrical. I'm most impressed. Great work.

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Thank you very much.

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