as pine-trees whisper to the breeze
I close my eyes to hear your voice
I close my eyes and feel your touch
and in their breath of turpentine
my life’s a blank canvas
and my fingers slowly paint
the colors of your sleeping face
in hues of apricot and dew
as you gently brush my lips
but
I stumble on the pine-tree’s root
suddenly aware
Grand Pine tree by Xu Beihong
Linked to Real Toads where Grace want us to write poetry inspired by Gabriela Mistral. I had not read anything, but I was primarily inspired by the loss of the man she loved and tried to capture that.
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August 9, 2014
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Well, you have captured it very touchingly. I like the idea of the fingers painting ‘in hues of apricot and dew’.
oh that last bit is like waking from a dream…sad…i was enjoying the intimacy of this
This is a very poignant poem, Bjorn! I can feel her pain.
Exquisite.
This is lovely!
Ah, these last lines…
I love the mention of turpentine and the forest that you painted, Bjorn. It’s kind of neat…my sister has been doing reike and getting attuned and she has has several incidences of smelling turpentine for no apparent reason at all. The mention of it in your poem caused me to think on this. Great poem!
A warm summer’s day in the pine-forest the smell of turpentine can be quite apparent
I hadn’t really put the two together before, Bjorn…thank you and I’ll have to mention that to my sister…maybe the pine have something to say to her. 🙂 Thank you!
How sad but I really admire this part:
my fingers slowly paint
the colors of your sleeping face
in hues of apricot and dew
Thanks for linking up with Real Toads Bjorn ~ Happy Sunday ~
Stunning. I had to read it a couple of times, I was so entranced…and each time the end awoke me with a start.
This is stunningly beautiful.
What tender artistry in this…with canvas, paint, hues, brush…then turpentine twist at the end.
Bjorn, Lovely. This reminded me of the forest fire you mentioned. I hope it’s been brought under control. 🙂 —Susan
The forest fire is still not under control
could feel the jerk in the last line…dream broken…poignant..
You chose the exact line for your title. I love the position it has in the poem itself – the scent so redolent of loss. There is much emotion written into these lines.
the turpentine breath is intriguing…you always mix unexpected images into your poems… sad on the stumbling over the roots… i’d say close your eyes and paint on…smiles
Sometimes a warm day in summer .. the pine-trees smell clearly of turpentine… almost like the trees are breathing pictures…
Bjorn another romantic one ??! awsome!! stumbling back to reality was beautifully put!
The sudden wake-up call is wonderful here, especially in the midst of the palette of romanticism. k.
beautifully woven..
Yes, that ending does feel like awakening from a dream…beautiful
I live surrounded by pine forests and the unique fragrance … lovely poem, Bjorn.
A masterful piece – the ache so visceral, it shocks like a jolt to wakefulness.