The Artist Portrays

I half-remember, perhaps it was a dream
this iconic image from someone's art.
What glimpse it was that can still make me start
like a banged gong, it could have been a dream.

There's a street reduced to smoking piles
in the bombsite a woman proudly stood.
Centre-stage by her doorframe's splintered wood
and amid this desolation, she smiles.

Smiles, for her returning love draws near:
the rightful viewer of the scene, dumb-struck.
His joy and thankfulness would fill a book
feelings always and forever held dear.

Wanting to share something of this essence
may it repair my odes, japes or curses.
What am I saying? Not just the verses!
Life worth living thrives in the quintessence.


◄ Birthday Poem

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Tue 7th Feb 2023 16:06

Powerful poem. The essence of life: love, not things. Even with loss of life, loss of shelter, the stupidity of war: love triumphs. Thanks for this poem, Adam.

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Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh

Mon 6th Feb 2023 07:46

Life worth living thrives in the quintessence.

You've started something with that last line Adam.

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