Unsolicited elegance. \u201cjust paint your picture and be done with it\u201d
\nshe says. Unamused, not impressed. \u201cI do despise this dress with the lowest of my being\u201d
\nshe\u2019ll scoff, and reach for the decanter. \u201cMadame, you mustn\u2019t move, I must capture your essence\u201d
\naye sir, you capture her essence, and aye, sir a portrait can speak a myriad of words
\nBut are they mine, sir?
\nshe turns, the writer she\u2019s invited to entertain her on this errand that some father\u2019s suitor has put her to, it\u2019s the writer that has caught as they say \u2018the rub\u2019.
\nAye, sir, the artist has the eye for capturing beauty in a moment.
\nBut tell me what you see that eyes can\u2019t. (and now he has her attention)
\nI see
\nSomething wild. And flourishing, like the crimson wildflowers of the banks in the Heart of Darkness. I see a beautiful something that has been harnessed for posterity\u2019s sake (curse posterity and the sake of his libation) harnessed and shaped into something, while fetching,
\nis more like a cage than a display. She is not to be displayed. Why, the only thing I see that you maybe have put in perspective for the rest of the populace, sir,
\n(and now for reasons unbeknownst even to himself he finds himself in the throes of a tiff)
\nis the manner in which she folds the front of her satin! Godssake man! The wildest part of her that we can see is the crumpled fabric held begrudgingly in her grasp. In the whiteness of her knuckles, which, by the grace of Odin himself seem to have escaped the sculpting of your oils on this canvas!
\nThe writer, exasperated, throws himself onto the Louis XV loveseat that pretentiously slides, screeching on the tile in exclamation (the dogs have since started and stopped barking due to the passion of the writer\u2019s exposition). Applying pressure to his temples with thumb and forefinger, a hand accentuates a visor over the eyes.
\n\u201cjust paint your picture and be done with it\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Unsolicited elegance. \u201cjust paint your picture and be done with it\u201d she says. Unamused, not impressed. \u201cI do despise this dress with the lowest of my being\u201d she\u2019ll scoff, and reach for the decanter. \u201cMadame, you mustn\u2019t move, I must capture your essence\u201d aye sir,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":936,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[10,2210],"class_list":["post-42402","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","tag-poetry","tag-thepoetrymarathon2017"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/42402","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/936"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=42402"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/42402\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":42407,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/42402\/revisions\/42407"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=42402"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=42402"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=42402"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}