The Inkwell

Reminiscence of a Muse

  They say poetry can sometimes come from tragedy

A Silver winning poem by me from the pages of Allpoetry.com

The poet picked up
the photo from the floor
it left an impression

Pressed down in the ground
by an empty bottle of Merlot
encased in finest green

Work of perfection,
destroyed in a moment
by the Artist’s hand

Angelic Form in pastel pink
now sullied in vermillion red
where did she travel to ?

Disappeared out of Sight,
Artists darkened thoughts bright
Across canvass

Phone Call to friend…
Despair down line sends
Ambulance round bend.

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About the author

Inkdrop is freelance writer with a passion for exploring the intersections between nature, architecture, and artistic expression. With a background in computing, and writing – his pen name harks back to when he played around with rhymes and a fountain pen. Now joined by a selection of created photos from an acquired DSLR camera He shares insights with scribblers of all backgrounds. Outside of visiting museums and exploring the latest in exhibits , he enjoys walking through the countryside in pursuit of the next rainbow.