Treasure Island

michael oliver

(13-4-1948 / swansea)

The Benin Head


Not looking fixed on no somewhere
Somewhere in the viewers invaded psyche
The eyes hover around an incommunicado
Ideal cheeks, ideal skin, lips inviting
They speak, mystery, our untouched mystery

The coned hair launched this journey
Eyes glided as an awed affection
Cheek brushed a regal metal skin
Note the ears quick sketched arabesques
All resolve the caste of homage

Within the bronze dark her hauteur
Ideas are repulsed as disrespects
We faun around this deep gravitas
A life encased in assured statuary
Lost to our ignorance of passing

Submitted: Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Edited: Thursday, August 15, 2013
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