At the first level, I wrote the poem as a person within the painting.
Oh, those wayward thoughts scatter again
in the slumbering fields of my head; I reached
the paths so familiar to me, the wind blowing
in the tender grass blades whispers many of
your tales, hey listen to those untold promises
glide fine as evening sunlight glistens through
colourful autumn leaves like a sweet anticipation
oh what an arrangement, I accepted you
as my destination, modest earth trembles
under my feet, my eyes watch you, tell you
don’t break the chain, tell me how do you do
that, if you were to do that ?
The world I spread out for you between the
muddy earth and starry skies, relentless
in its sways, it drags you and me out of
the dark shadows, the constraints we humans
live with! tell me how to stay away from them?
Hardcore romantic by tendency & DNA, I took the “longing” dimension as my thought-starter.
At the second level, I wrote the poem as the painter.
Before me flows that early autumn afternoon awhile,
when the sun bathed everything in a warm golden splendor
a gentle zephyr blowing from the lake murmured;
Fragile feet, dark kohled eyes, fragrant tresses, delicate hands
and soft breasts took shelter in the cooling grove,
and the garden tranquility ; my eyes downcast held the trembling
surge in my breast for him; I struggled, when the moment
transported me into the promise of a delirious heady taunting
rhymes lovers indulge often much against the societal norms,
oh! Had I dropped a cryptic message of a planned elopement
on that sweet evening when the breeze was keen and chill!?
*influence of the Maestros can be felt in my feeble rendition..well, I am a humble follower.for a fleeting moment, the feverishness of romance sprung past …when I was introduced to….in that brief glance Vronsky had time to notice the restrained animation that played over her face and fluttered between her shining eyes and the barely noticeable smile that curved her red lips. It was as if a surplus of something so overflowed her being that it expressed itself beyond her will, now in the brightness of her glance, now in her smile..” Anna Karenina by Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy