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All Through Tuscany

The afternoon outlined. The sunny strokes
of a samurai blade on her body
revealing things the eyes feign see.
Tempted, wounded, the virgin parchment floats
between her skin and satin cloak.
Artist; afternoon, craving company
draws her inside-out so innocently,
on purpose leaves the yolk indwelling.

The painter in the corner moans,
he jealous of the afternoons artly
sensual oration.
Improving skin, bare olive tones
of subtle pastel, the moment partly lost
to the constellations.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Date: 7/29/2010 1:55:00 AM
Innocent,wounded,seducing,beautiful Images. .created by an artist of verse,Your poem is almost a painting with those olive tones,splashed in a delicate way,lovely!tmfvs C.C.
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Date: 7/28/2010 9:31:00 PM
You need to give once over to the rhyme scheme of the sonnet. I enjoyed fine images in the sonnet, Jim
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Date: 7/28/2010 7:37:00 PM
sounds like a dream vacation to me EXCEPT for the flaws,, enjoyed your poem,..p.d.
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