To Edwaert Collier Regarding Vanitas Still Life Your somber work so cloaks our fate in dote on darkness we await... ...where candlestick you've overturned held flame of hope so long that burned... ...and silence wafts as music made from instruments no longer played... ...and nib with ink forever dried has left unfinished work implied... ...and books in which we've bound our dread are turned to ground we fear to tread... ...and yet your globe shows daring's yen as map to be redrawn again... ...when treasures pass with blood that flows to future faith, in darkness, grows. Portly Bard Portly Bard: Old man. Ekphrastic fan. Prefers to craft with sole intent of verse becoming complement... ...and by such homage being lent... ideally also compliment.
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The Ekphrastic Review
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May 2023
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