Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Fuji, Rainier, now to Africa’s pinnacle she followed, behind a parade of sycophants   marching, single file behind his greatness   few made ascents with him   she only Fuji, on a windless day   though others made the trek up Rainer, surviving a blizzard that hit halfway down   she told her lover his faithful must have thought his presence imbued them with immortality   which he seemed to possess     maybe it did, the lover said   seven decades and one, still ******* old mountains and young women   and she was still there, despite the doctors’ bleak sentence     she was painting, moving while she still could, a water color of Rainier in mist, hanging in some haunted hall in his home now a pale pastel of Kilimanjaro for which he would spend a fortune, to hang somewhere he would not spend a minute     when her extended contract expired   she would be ashes scattered in Big Sur   and he would still be climbing higher   breathing heaven’s ether, a color she never captured   but her signature would be on overpriced art   which from the start, he commissioned to keep her from leaving without having seen rarefied air
0
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
pastel of Kilimanjaro
Fuji, Rainier, now to Africa’s pinnacle she followed, behind a parade of sycophants   marching, single file behind his greatness   few made ascents with him   she only Fuji, on a windless day   though others made the trek up Rainer, surviving a blizzard that hit halfway down   she told her lover his faithful must have thought his presence imbued them with immortality   which he seemed to possess     maybe it did, the lover said   seven decades and one, still ******* old mountains and young women   and she was still there, despite the doctors’ bleak sentence     she was painting, moving while she still could, a water color of Rainier in mist, hanging in some haunted hall in his home now a pale pastel of Kilimanjaro for which he would spend a fortune, to hang somewhere he would not spend a minute     when her extended contract expired   she would be ashes scattered in Big Sur   and he would still be climbing higher   breathing heaven’s ether, a color she never captured   but her signature would be on overpriced art   which from the start, he commissioned to keep her from leaving without having seen rarefied air
spysgrandson
Written by
American
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem