francesca
i met you too late francesca
there with your purple dotted dress
sitting alone in a lilac world
tears streaming from brokenness
somehow
i knew your desires
and all that you wanted
that you needed
to add color to your world
and you did
i stood alone
remembered your smile
and wondered why you could not stay
for just a while
when i saw you turn
i knew you would go
walk away into the mist
ever so slowly
never looking back
there were no tears in your eyes
and yet your heart wept
it was then i knew
you could not stay
sometimes angels just can’t
@ tolbert
PRESPECTIVISTA fracesca uccello
sophisticated
two- dimensional
picture
space
proportionzl
& measured
vanishing point
in
parallels
of
distorted
aesthetic
assumptions
of
natural
reality
in
i!lusions
made
possible
in
spatial
horizontals
of
receding
versimultude
In
muted
contrasts
Your hand
As so inclined
Am I to show that love refined
Itself to friendship
Yet in that lowly
Friendly act
There still remains the simple fact
As lips touch skin
Respectful blessing
Is released
And worried brow becomes uncreased
For lips they linger..
Just a while..
To transfer more than just a smile
They wish to walk the extra mile
From wrist
To forearm
Where friends desist
And love walks slowly from the mist
And yet..
This happens
In the mind
Forgive the drift from 'love refined'..
As thought constrained
And locked away
In hopeful future such love remains
A warmth, cold daytime life detains
In daydreams
DELLA FRANCESCA
meticulous mystery
so picturesque
en passant
serene detachment
in an enigmatic
renaissnce
Piero della Francesca
painter of thr Quattro centra
long neglected but still so serene
'til "Downron' returned him to our screen
Eyes shimmer sky-kissed blue.
Cheeks whisper a rosy hue.
Smiles and laughter breakthrough,
When we play fun peekaboo.
Lips create Cupid’s bow.
Hair sun-kissed strawberry flow.
Sense of calm rests below,
As I watch you bloom and grow.
Painting radiant beams,
With irresistible gleam.
Dancing through rich daydreams,
Developing self esteem.
Little sister that’s true.
Learning skills each day anew.
Following what you do,
Little angel, all day through.
Frankie’s July fifth debut,
Smiles and laughter breakthrough.
Open ever watching you,
Eyes shimmer sky-kissed blue.
As Hermes once took to his feathers light,
When lulled Argus, baffled, swooned and slept,
So on a Delphic reed, my idle spright
So played, so charmed, so conquered, so bereft
The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes;
And seeing it asleep, so fled away,
Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies,
Nor unto Tempe, where Jove grieved a day;
But to that second circle of sad Hell,
Where in the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw
Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell
Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw,
Pale were the lips I kissed, and fair the form
I floated with, about that melancholy storm.
She sits like a song
In her rocking chair.
Grace evident - Smiling radiant
Power curling on spun glass.
Bound to a solitude --"Welcome, Old Friend"
Moving as if to escape the skin;
Magic beats her heart, brights her eyes.
Thoughts ignite her hands.
Wisdom firing from her fingers....
-Ink is the escape.
Her hands have molded souls
And waved to create breezes
That brushed Goddess' hair.
Memories - turned inside-out
Feelings - turned outside-in...
Flesh stolen; enigma given, unaccepted.
Withered grapes on a kitchen window sill
Harbor memories of the vine...
And "Tea-Drops" on socks from a cup long drunk
Hide Steps
Taken in other worlds.
Ink formed thoughts give wings to this simple woman.
Leaving wonder in the wake.
She sings with a pen.
Droplets of playful spirit released from
A squirt bottle,
Taming a busy cat....and the
Impish laughter paints beauty on her face,
Electrifying her hair into sparks that blow across the Universe.
Tiny Fey lurk in the corners
Waiting to come out and dance with her.
And like a song......
The Shaman
In her rocking chair.....