Best Artpain Poems
The Deposition by Michelangelo
He could not stop once he began the work
Of shaping a most painful scene in stone
For the whole world to see and remember
Hoping they will feel what he felt so strong
Jesus, His life offered as sacrifice
Sorrow filled eyes of those who had been there
Haunting dreams invading his sleep at night
Feeling deep inside, the pain and despair
And he knew it had become a mission
To bring to life in marble, his vision.
It must have been a Friday quite chilly
For the bodies of those carrying Him
Are covered from head to toe heavily
Yet just pieces of clothes are seen on Him
Perhaps awkwardly placed around in haste
By Mary Magdalene or His mother
Agony written all over her face.
Yet clearly perceived upon their features
I see traces of their love for Jesus
Not escaping those of Nicodemus.
Nicodemus, a man who knew the Lord
Devastated by the horror he’d seen.
Michelangelo worked the marble long
Shaping the pain stricken face of his dreams
Taking a step back, had carved his own face
Had seen himself help the crying women
Take down Jesus’ heavy and lifeless frame.
Dropped his tool, overcome with emotion
Unable to continue, kneeled down to pray
Left it unfinished; “The Deposition”.
By CarolineCecile
Copyright © 12.14.09
Note: This is the first time I write in the Ekphrasis form, so I am not sure I have done this
right, but I did want to challenge myself to write. Please feel free to critique and make
suggestions where it needs improvement.
Also, the third verse, line 5 and 6 came from my imagination. I do not know if the face of
Nicodemus is Michelangelo's, but somehow I felt compelled to write that.
Thank you for reading, Caroline.
You go down in the dry pool
foraging for the political errors,
irisprints, a certain desire of revolt,
any skeleton to identify the victim.
An awful claim, the accuser was becoming accused.
For namesake somebody was dying
unceremoniously for holding tuberculosis.
Dots did not help. Washed and dried curses
went into the background. There was a cease-fire
for sometime but the guns will start blazing
any day on fake pretexts.
The ending of pain or pain of ending begins.
The past was chasing, future uncertain, present
is ugly. Peahen likes the tail not the crown.
Peacock is on tree and on fire. Deflection
of sun marks the beginning of eclipse.
A word falls from a crossword puzzle, makes
a history. Death was in crucible, dualism
will survive. The long beard of a terrorist
becomes brown with age. The train is screeching
to halt. There was a landslide.
SATISH VERMA