These Art Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Art. These are the best examples of Art Narrative poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
THERE HE WAS HOLDING OUT HIS HAND.
God, can I hold your hand and go with you?
My sweet child, it is I who will walk with you now! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across the earth... Your love and devotion is what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You always ran up to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles of tribulations. We could not speak, but it was my light that would not allow you to get weak.
Is this that dream of beauty? The one in the book my preacher spoke of.
Yes! I remember it now it is called paradise. I felt this company once before, Lord.
Many times, I have forsaken this light, and still it never left my door.
I felt it the day I was born, and the day I became baptized in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it some more?
Lord pleases clarify that day I fell down to my knees and accepted Jesus as my savior?
Every day since, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my own failures’. Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road. This light never left you.
My sweet child did you not listen, Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible. My child you were not searching for the right answers.
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray right?
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself, which left questions for someone else.
At times how could I answer when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your souls disguises.
Lord, I have other questions to ask.
What should I expect out of my personal sins? My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand.
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence days.
How is it that I am in your promise land?
Getting right with me has brought you here!
One more question My Heavenly Father.
Can I see her? I meant, could I see them? My Daughter, Mother's and Sisters~
She’s just an old memory of a younger man’s dreams
An image of love hard to find
I can still see her eyes, taste the joy of her lips
In the deep recesses of my mind
Hair that was flowing, a smile that was glowing
An angel with earthly charms
Felt her heart beat in the tropical heat
Got lost in her loving arms
Sometimes I wonder if it was only a dream
An old sea story that I told
But I remember those eyes like a radiant beam
A treasure greater than gold
I wonder now if she waited on shore
With the fire in her heart still burning
And I wonder if there were tears in her eyes
Realizing I would not be returning
She’s just an old memory that haunts me today
A storybook love affair
A blanket, a beach and two bodies entangled
On a tropical island somewhere.
"I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write" - Elizabeth Barrett Browning
that was the last word he whispered before his eyes closed forever...
I close my own eyes, bite my lower lip, 'til I taste tin, stone angel crying with me...
The wind sends chills through me, as the heavens threatened to weep
brown leaves skittering between my feet, seeking for shelter.
How I related to those leaves: dry...brittle...dead.
I look at the Angel that watches over him,imploring for answers,
begging this Guardian to take pity on me, help me remember.
She only looks at me, with tears in her eyes, her beautiful face
always looked enigmatic to me, for she was smiling...
and yet those tears hinted at sadness,
seemingly reprimanding me with her look.
I bow my head in shame, and reach for her hands,
but I only feel cold, hard stone...not unlike my heart
My throat catches, I can hardly breathe--
I loosen my grip, feeling it might burn this time
...from guilt, for forgetting...
I glance at her magnificent wings, and wished I had them, too,
if only to fly away, but my feet are stuck on the ground,
with a heart buried in regret.
I whisper one word: "Sorry":spoken so softly, I think I only said it in my heart;
I say it louder, my body wracked with sobs, my heart bleeding crimson tears of anguish.
I look at the Angel and notice something on her sash--
One pristine white feather lay there-a stark contrast to the moss covered stone.
I take the feather, notice wordings etched on the sash--and scraped off moss,
Tennyson's words go straight to my heart...
" 'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."
The memories come back like a flash flood, assaulting me, bringing me back to that day.
He told me he had an angel carved to be with him at his grave,
since I, his angel, couldn't always be there for him. And that he understood,
that it was okay. I shrugged it off, told him I love him forever.
I still do, that's why it shamed me that I also love another now.
Seeing those words, I felt such a sense of peace, like he was embracing me,
smoothing out my hair like he used to, telling me it was all right.
I blink back tears, and say "Thank you" this time...I hug the Angel and I felt warm.
Drizzle and sunlight bounced off each other as I walked away.
I turn my head around to his grave
--and the Angel looked on with a smile.
Constance's Angels in Cemeteries contest
June 18, 2011
Early one morning a group of rookie's and veteran's ballplayers emerge onto the prac-
tice field destine to began an grueling season of hardwork and a dedication to an common-
goal of Superiority. They come out of the locker room after the coach has given assign-
ment's and now everyone minds are on one accord, one agenda and together they all say to
themselve's. "The road to a Championship began when the priority to be the best", "is know
from one and all roads to success is gear towards teamwork and passionate loyalty to suc-
ceed at any means there is". Loyalty to push on through the inclimate weather, hardwork off
the field as well on the field is approachable only when a championship atmosphere surrounds
itself with ballplayer's and not attitude's disrespectful to the cause of the challenge's to be-
come the best at what you do, and do the best at what not to do. Teamwork is a do-able part
of the puzzle, but there's more to it then that. There is hunger, and then all the pieces falls
together when that hunger is fed an astronomical desire that fill-up the body and your minds
with offensive and defensive individual's that love's victory and enjoy's a desire to not finish
the race in last place. So out emerge's a champion in his relationship to his fellow ballplayers
and to his family as that of maturity and that of unlimited resources of the uncoachable en-
tangable fortitude that seperate the advantage's over the disadvantages that make his or her
teammate's reach the level of sportsmenship unseen and redeem as the fans come to see a
player that value's himself and value the diffucult task of Sunday to Sunday ability to be not
only a scholar athelete but also The road of a Champion is what make's him love to compete:
He looked at me with
Hiding in his own world.
All knew his looks,
But none knew him.
No one realized
who he was.
Then one day,
Everyone closed in on him
Their daggers pointing
At the only feeling he had:
He let out a sob
One small sob that told them everything
They walked away.
But they never ceased to push and shove him
Dislocating his heart and putting sorrow to his words.
They never realized
What they were doing
Until it was too late.
He put a sword to his heart and said,
"I love you, mom and dad, but now it's time for me to go."
Stabbing his heart,
He lay there, his cold and still body radiating sorrow
The others never glanced,
But I looked at him.
I carried him out,
Not understanding why others would do this.
When we held a funeral,
Some said he was kind and so I asked,
"Where were you when he needed you?"
Rushing to your bedside,
cars blurred, people passed me by
yet I still looked for a sign
to know you would be all right
but I only felt God's tears on my cheeks that day
You just lay there,
the fire in you set to low
and I could not see your bright smile
but your heart still beat, ever so strong
and I felt God’s arms embrace me that day
For seven days you held on,
a day for each of us
even then you were so thoughtful...
you could not speak, but we still heard you breathe
then I heard God whisper to me that day…
As I left with papa to buy your mattress
to soothe your aching sores
I heard His voice say, “Go back and kiss him,”
“This just may be your last.”
And true enough, it was.
We left you there still breathing,
not on your own though, but still
Then that dreaded phone call...
No more need to buy that mattress,
your heart had already gone still
A part of my heart will always be numb,
and I shall never be the same again
a certain twinkle in my eye won’t shine anymore,
it died as you took your final breath
but my smile, how thankful I am I have a hint of yours...
Tears still flow from my soul you know
for all my mistakes, for my version of coping
I am just so sorry, I hope you have forgiven me
and I still hope to feel your embrace once more
when I reach Heaven’s door someday...
It may only be in dreams that I truly see you,
only in prayer do we speak
You are here no more and yet I feel you,
inside my heart, the depths of my soul…
** this is about the last image of seeing my only brother alive...
he was diagnosed with a brain tumor the size of a tennis ball
5 months prior to his seizure which led to a 7-day coma,
which he finally succumbed to,
just 2 days before I turned 23...he was 32...
** originally wrote this for Frank's Images contest-
thanks Frank for coming up with this,
it's helped me to write and share this...
please say a prayer for Raphael, my brother--thank you...
** submitting this as well for HG's Personify a Tear contest
50,000 steps to 7 cents
My heart over flows with love
As I walk down these streets of mud
Challenge, I face more with each step
A penny I came across in my pocket it went
My heart overflowing with love to be shared
The only thing that keeps me warm on these cold hard streets
My tears turn to ice, as I weep
Looking at the ground
Another penny I did see
The rest of my walk is an up hill climb
My legs tire and feet slow down
Holes in the souls
Of my seven year old shoes
My feet frozen like two ice cubes
The wind begs to be brisk
Vision my thoughts of you to keep me warm
Vision my thoughts of you, my reason to go on
My thoughts warm my heart
The vision of your smile warms my soul
Not much longer - now I know
The top of the hill, I now see
A shiny new nickel lye’s in front of me
Once I top this up hill climb, seven cents in my pocket
Is what I’d find
As I raise my head up, not looking behind
I look in front to my future, my reason why
I see you standing not so far from my heart
Embrace our love as you whisper seven cents is a start.
Part One- Reality
The door is closing
I’m loath to close it
And yet….and yet
I feel….I must
Close it gently
Close is surely
Oh, so very slowly
Hoping against hope
Part Two- Fantasy
How I long to fling it open
And dash outside
Grab your retreating frame
And pull you inside
Eager to show you
The wonders I’ve prepared
The love decorations I’ve hung
Perhaps if you could see
With your own eyes
My little and cozy heart
The warm fire that continually burns
The bed that I’ve prepared and perfumed
The food…delicacies for your tongue
Treats bursting with flavors
You’ve never tasted before
Sweet dainty desserts for when
The night has turned to day
And we arise hungry
Searching for what will sustain us
For our next expenditure
Of passion tinged energy
From which we never tire
You'd come inside
My heart kingdom
Here, you reign
In this kingdom
All is under your command
My soul and body
Yours to do with as you wish
For I belong to you
And I know you well
Aware of what will please
When to appease
When to placate
And when to tease…
I serve you with tender hand
Longing to satisfy you
So you will never want to leave
To make you dream contented dreams
As you sleep soundly
On the soft silken pillows
Of my body
And awake to dream again
For life is but “A Dream within a Dream”
Part 3- Back to Reality
No, your figure continues to retreat
My voice does not reach you
My tears fall unnoticed
This door of my heart
Must close forever
I will bolt it too
For I cannot bear the thought
Of letting another in
I sigh behind the door
Looking at the bed
That will not hear
My moans and cries of ecstasy
Nor your contended sighs
A bed that will never hold
Our entwined bodies
Tossing and turning
Finely tuned to the rhythm of delight
A bed that will never feel
Hands that clutch at its silken sheets
Desperate to hold on…a little longer
In that pulsating world of blinding light
Part 4- The Final Act
I lean with all my strength against the door
To close it “forevermore”
There is resistance
It will not close
Frustrated, with tears spilling down
Threatening to turn into a deluge
I fling the door open
Only to look at a massive chest
My eyes travel up to your face
And those beautiful eyes
My source of delight
Your hand reaches out
And wipes away tears
My breath catches in my throat
As I hear your mellow voice speak
“Won’t you invite me in?”
Part 5- Yes, the happy ever after!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I am silent
I am trembling
I am singing
I am dreaming
Under blue sky`s veil
To see some poem`s trail
How plain it looks in the morning sun, as I hold it up to the window light
And palm it fondly once again
It stirs my heart with tenderness, emotions blend with winter's sky
A rock as smooth as glass…, this heart shaped stone he gave to me
Along with a kiss that could not last, that brief repast
of what would pass
...and of what could never be….,
I was late to bloom, a quiet girl, long dark hair, and I blushed too easily
He sat behind me in science class, poked fun, and loved to tease me
He would flip my pony tail to and fro, and beg for the answers to a test
Or call me “squirt”…….and to the rest...
he’d say, “Bug off!”…if someone dared to taunt me
His eyes were dark, and skin was tan, and the leather jacket had much appeal
A flirt he was, but much too fast, especially for a girl like me
Considered cool….I was quite out-classed, but I must confess....my love was real
He lived far down our country road, his family owned a big ranch home
His Jeep sped daily by our house, driving much too fast,...much too fast...
Too much privilege, has a price, oh...you know, .... he was the spoiled kind
My parents often said as much...
“Don’t look too hard!” “Don’t be inclined!” much too fast...much too fast...
But beneath the cool, his smooth talk play,
was the protective way he treated me,
he had a tender smile for me.....it was sincere...I knew it then
I know it was......I believed in him
Even though, he wore a false disguise...a macho side, for all the guys
One day when I was on my horse, a mile from home,
he drove on by and then, of course
he stopped to talk, we laughed, he smiled
I tied my mare, he left his Jeep, we took a walk through growing oats
So cold, then rain, so unprepared, he shared his coat,
and the leather scent filled the air
Beneath our feet, he saw the rock, a multi-colored heart shaped stone
He gave me a quiet look, and took my hand…
Into my fist, he put the stone, and on my lips….a tender kiss
We never spoke of it again….He was cool, …. you must remember
this morning, cold, in January....lives on and on in memories
I heard the news a few years later…it broke my heart, and brought the rain
He sped too fast, ………….again,……again …..
The past brings pain .........again, ....again....
Sweet scent of leather, can last forever
Reminding me now, of yesterday
Reminding me now, of never, never...
of the things that can never be....
For contest sponsored by Giorgio Veneto