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Too Much Precision Muttered Here

by Philip F De Pinto




Penelope
It wasn't so much a life drawing class
As lifeless jargon where neither elbow or wrist had free rein
No true falconry to insist the skies otherwise to sweep
But to be hoodwinked into thinking
Such were festooning round
Your form to please tutors merely and suitors
In the absence of your sorcerer seeking sire

While the graphite knits link after link
You Penelope unhitch
Though the model render free of garb
She is more hibited than a leek
Taken the last peel unto her realm
And the design and the aroma
Of the journey are
Confined within


02/20/2015

Posted on 02/20/2015
Copyright © 2023 Philip F De Pinto

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 02/22/15 at 09:00 PM

Yet, she waited patiently for Ulyseus to return. Spot of tea anyone while waiting her reply?

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