Long Peacedance Poems

Woman of Art.

The steam slowly raises from inside my mug, wrapping itself around my pencil, eventually 
evaporating into the musty atmosphere.
As I open my sketchbook I imagine all the possibilities of a world inside my head, but today 
I’ll stick to what I do best.
I place pencil to paper and within seconds her eyes blaze like wildfire, a look of pure 
mystery and a feeling of seductiveness.
Her nose is sly and round with a slight creek to the left in a cute and attractive way, I pick up 
my cup and take a sip before moving on.

I sketch a swiftness of lines as a base to what will later become a sea of hair, my hand slides 
down to her neck, she is beautiful.
I rub my eyes, it’s late now and my candle is starting to burn out, her shoulders are broad, 
not to wide but slightly long.
I run the tip of my lead around her soft breast, they sag slightly at the bottom but I don’t 
care, as I draw in her hips.
You could place your hands on hips like this and hold them for a lifetime, I move my pencil 
up to her waist, I prefer the fuller figure.

I realise my tea has turned stone cold as I take her soft hand into mine, we dance around 
the page between the flowers and tree’s.
I look into her eye’s of blazing fire and draw in the final outline of her hair, I think it would 
look good light blue with green streaks.
I draw in her thighs as my pencil runs down her long smooth legs…. No, I take my eraser 
and rub out her legs as I change my mind.
Instead I think I’ll have her legs disappear into a mist, her dress of gold and black sparkling 
in the cold midnight air.

I draw in the tears as she cry’s, for no more life has she ever known, we walk through night, 
as I hold her hand she rests her head upon my shoulder.
We take a seat on a newly sketched bench next to a fountain over flowing with water of the 
darkest blue, and she sighs.
I get from out of my chair and fill the kettle, as the water boils I contemplate her fate, I pour 
my drink and sit down at my desk, I get to work.
Her arms out spread and a smile on her newly formed gentle lips, I draw a sparkle into her 
tears, then as I place the finishing touches I rip out the page.

The frame is cheap but not tacky, I placed her on the wall above my desk,
Where next to a crystal fountain of water blue and dark,
She can dance forever.