I do so admire the ones who can render
The spirit of splendor in paint
The simple untouchable beauty so tender
So lovingly shown, with restraint
As I lazily lie in my rumpled old bed
The window’s all beaded with rain
And the thin thorny branches beside the old shed
Wildly dance in the wind’s mad refrain
From the dark House of Usher, or from Wuthering Heights
The scene seems to spring to my mind
A flight of pure fancy, but full of delights,
For the needfully searching to find.
Of Poe’s Midnight Dreary, this First of December,
I think, as my day dims to night
And, in snatches, those books I shall always remember
Each time that I turn out the light
Oh, I wish, how I wish, I could ever express
The wistfulness found in the thunder
and paint a great canvas, and leave them to guess
What nature of Spell I was under!
👩🎨
Aremyfeetofftheground 
would like to see your blogs on those very rare lonely nights
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“The Vonner”?
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Thanks so much, Deborah.
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This is so so beautiful, Lee.
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Beautiful. That’s how I get when I see a beautiful work of art too. Sometimes your head paints a beautiful picture and then when you aren’t able to translate that into art of any form, the frustration is killing!
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There are so many poems and stories I have a feeling inside to write, but getting it onto paper sometimes is indeed a frustration as you say!
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True that. Sometimes words and ideas don’t fit together. Other times everything comes putting out in a torrent of words and emotions. Inspiration is a weird thing 😔
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How have you been? Well, I hope.
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I’ve been well but busy. Thanks for asking. How about you, Lee?
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Pretty good, Pradita, thank you.
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Good to know. Have a great day or goodnight 😊
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*pouring out
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Nice…
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