A glimmering prize for the desolate,
Jewelled with stars that pave heaven at her feet,
With breasts full with the promise of release,
And tender, sensual fingers that suffocate.

Wrapped with precious furs in dusk’s red light,
Youthful fires burnish her pale opal eyes,
Rings on her fingers, pearls around her thighs,
She beckons you like a perfumed flame in eternal night.

She reclines on her resplendent bed,
Scattered with flowers upon her gilded stage.
An oiled, scented vision of blistering love and rage
Lit by golden pools of light above her head.

Like Olympia with an orchid behind her ear,
Like a timeless bruise that never heals, again
This glittering whore of desperate men
Draws you like a jaundiced candle nearer.

© 2016 Occasional Dreams
In response to daily prompt: Ostentatious / discover challenge In the Style of
Image: Wasserschlangen I by Gustav Klimt

This was my attempt at writing a poem about hope in the style of 19th century French Symbolist poet Charles Baudelaire. Olympia was a painting of a prostitute by Édouard Manet.


9 Replies to “Hope”

    1. I originally came across Baudelaire via T.S. Eliot and find his dark passion very infectious. Thank you for the feedback. I am humbled. 🙂


    1. It’s a book I had on my shelf for a while too. I’m not far in but, wow! I’m already in awe at the depth of Pessoa’s imagination and the way he created and wrote via his many ‘heteronyms’ — it’s inspiring and despairing at the same time.


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