Your home for everything artistic


Guest poem by J.H. Wells

blue eyes


A portrait Pollack painted,

drunk, blossoming ornate beauty.


Gypsy eyes, wearing violet,

hiding, the nighttime thief,

from dawns  heart of



But I know so little of this design.

For we have not shared

passion’s ferocity


taken part in the restless feeling

in a dying conversation.


So, who is to say

That our house will burn, or if

The lavenders will have a

divine scent?


Join me,

drowning in some gin.

I’ll be by my typewriter, and you

lost in your violin.


Until then,

love will have to starve.

Comments on: "Emily" (2)

  1. Wow, love it! I know this is a guest post, but I just started reading your blog. Now I’m going to read backwards, is out of order an OK idea?

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