Hello YWS. This, it seems, will be my first poetry posting on the site. A year ago, I hated the idea of poetry and only wrote when forced. A few months ago, I still wasn't a fan. AP English, however, has changed my opinion of it completely (Robert Browning must have that effect on people), and now I feel I've come to understand poetry enough to be comfortable posting something I've written.
My peers in my creative writing class liked this one, but I can't help but wonder how it will hold up in front of a broader, more critique-experienced audience. And that brings me here. I hope you like it.
It's entitled Oh Glory of Glories, and it is based off a painting. I'd describe the painting to you, but if you can't imagine it yourself through my words, then it seems I've failed.
Thanks for reading.
Oh glory of Glories!
by mikedb1492, your local inkfish
I dip the rag in
my belt-strapped pail, then
lather the window
while gripping the rail,
and wipe,
wipe with the squeegee,
drawing a viewport down the calcium-crust glass.
Alas!
Such pure light to be spent,
where no happiness went,
into the office of Mister Rockwell,
so plain, so boring, a doldrum well.
Yet beyond him, what be this?
Shining in eye,
an angel’s visage, so exquisite I’ll die!
With a head of fire cropped in a bun,
and baby blush cheeks, envied by the sun,
her dress skirt tucking just above the knees,
the reason for these
feelings that flutter
from stomach to chest.
Speaking of chest, Cupid’s done the rest,
with her five buttons unbuttoned and parted to side,
my eyes go wide,
my feelings can’t hide.
She peeks from her pad, she catches my glance,
Oh glory of glories this is my chance!
Though through glass I be muted, I cannot speak,
so I give her a smile, and one big
wink.
