Friday, April 27

The Painter



This is for dVerse Poets Pub.

I put it up as a post last year under my "A poem for Thursday" slot and I thought it might resonate with some of the other poems this week.



The blue sky,
  
and a lazy gull,
                
and the shouting laughter
                   
 of young men playing football.

and high in the sky

the boys float and flutter

on warm thermals.

birch leaves whisper 

and turn themselves over

to show pure silver

-rising in price -

they say. 
.
Stelios gives me a fly past

on his way back from those triangular mountains.

and the wood pigeon

moans gently in the tall pine tree.

on the day

the painter died.

[The painter and the painting of course...Lucien Freud
and the boys are the screaming gang of swallows over the field].





8 comments:

  1. Gerry, this is brilliant! I love the imagery which is so beautifully done :)

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  2. wow nicely done...love how you capture all that is going on around on the day the painter died...of course my musical mind went to the song...the day the music died...

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  3. Incredible talent here in both Freud's painting and the poem, Gerry. So glad you shared this here.

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  4. Stelios SHOULD see this; Lucien sadly can't.

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  5. My goodness me, how good he was Gerry at showing a person's character in his painting. Lovely poem.

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  6. As an admirer of the work of Lucien Freud, I really appreciate this word-painting as an apt tribute. Good reading.

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  7. The artists touch, from brush to pen, and pen to brush, it all too soon becomes one! Very nice!

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  8. hey geri - your blog doesnt appear to like me -
    :D - love this piece - i paint - my heros Bacon Freud - the london school - awesome huh?...

    a sweet and sad tribute - nice to meet you :D

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