Ekphrastic Poetry

Cover Image



Donatello’s marble dirt-

tainted rampant with age,

a face etched by hurt.


On concrete pavements, Roman

roads, stain-draped long

Romanesque robes

Not tattered by age, but still.

he strolls on monotone-marble.


Ever ceasing creases on robes,

that linger

where his eyebrow and forehead

meet. Hand holding slight to keep

from tripping.  Mouth ajar,


I stare just as he stares down

at forthcomings,

a frown of something smaller than he

distant, dead; a friend or kin, me.


Anguish in face against the only bold

statue in the room.

Creating passers to look

in his doom-face-frightened.


Exasperation-ethereal, moon-colored

separating what could have been

but never will.

Still--I move away, now can sense the fear,

come now to a hearing-heart the

missed notion of death and life.


We now cross paths in a distant world

separated through time

stained by pain, I remember,

in my face and yours.

Created: Feb 22, 2012


Yasminxx Document Media