The Loss of the Louvre
Imagine that the world of pictures died
And words alone were left. The Instagram
And TikTok types would all want suicide.
Then poetry would rule; this oriflamme
Of language would replace nought one, nought one
Of photographs and paintings. Round a fire
The folk would flock. Long legends would be spun
By bards who know how words whirl out desire.
Red epics, scarlet in their love and hate,
Would lick the listeners. The flames of tongues
Would sing of lovers and of love’s lashed fate,
As Lancelots and Gueneveres of lungs.
In such a universe mere pictures would
Become as shadowy as widowhood.
~ Phillip Whidden
by phillipw | Dec 14, 2024 | AN, BA, EP, LE, LO, PO, RO |