Drawing Love

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(a sonnet)


I draw, watching you, the skin, the pure colour without skin,
without paint, only through eyes, without miracle, only
realisation
that I feel, that I mark, that hurts engraved in paper.

They are not an image, the lines, these exalting sketches.
It is climbing a stair to reach
the gaze,
tremulous, of the pupils, of the iris avid for the instant.

Impossible to retain a dream like this without matter or object
with no document or matrix of the very colour, the exact being,
created with the traced drawing a real, but ethereal.

I invent the secret of an adjective shadow,
and draw already your face, the entire body, without knowing
that I draw to love you and that art while drawing is subjective.
 
 

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Wanton VixxxenWanton Vixxxenabout 18 years ago
Drawing a memory...

from a future image of love is difficult, at best, to create, yet you have successfully penned a masterpiece, Lauren. Although I have often voted on your poems, I have never ventured to comment as, quite frankly, I am intimidated by your avid display of word usage that usually do a fly by over this woman's head. I vote on them because, like this one, I "feel" the mood of the poem and like what I feel <smile> For Me, that is what it takes to earn a five; the pure enjoyment derived from a well written piece.

I felt compelled to comment on this one, however, as the only other one that seemed to grasp what this SONNET is about {and it is indeed a sonnet; requiring only fourteen lines which it meets} happened to be another fine poet, bluerains.

"Drawing Love" drew Me out of the shadows and into the public comment arena for your work, Lauren. Thank you for this lovely poem.

Vixxx

AnonymousAnonymousabout 18 years ago
drawing castles

in the air of the object of our affections...a hard one to live up to ...in the real world...nicely penned...blue

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