I was listening to Opeth lately and Anathema so I'm leaning toward that sound. I'm hoping the storyline comes through in this piece. It's about a nineteenth century mortician who's also an artist. He embalms her the first day, paints her the second, and then buries her. Lavender or other herbs were sometimes used to mask odor of a corpse. The turpentine relates to his art. Thanks for reading and comments are appreciated.

**I've rewritten this piece. **

"Her New Life"

There's a blank face in a portrait
Even though the features are clearly there
A badly painted picture with a flat, blank stare

Had she wept, suffering when darkness held her tightly
Did a smile ever define pallid lips
Paralyzed gaze never changing
From life to death

No inclination of emotion
Not even pain eluded to
A flat, blank nothing
What the artist drew

Her lifeless body lies before him
Like so many others trusted to his hands
But her face captures his mind

Melancholy overwhelms him
He imagines her voice, her scent
Adoring hesitation in his eyes

Even in death she's beautiful
Scent of lavender and cedar surrounds her
Glint of silver scalpel in his hands

Oozing new blood from a bottle
Glimmering puddle reflects against the wall
Once living fluid discarded

As the cold sets in
The light is fading through the window
Tomorrow he'll begin

Fixed focused vision on his passion
Artist, dual-roled, succumbed
Laid out for the canvas

His brush won't do as his mind asks
Unable to bring her features back to life
The scent of turpentine burns his nose

No light reflected from her eyes
No hate or fear or calm
Still he can't lose her
He tries to give her new life
But all she has to give
Is a blank faced picture

As the cold sets in
The light is fading through the window
Tomorrow he'll begin

Not a sound from the world
As he lonely fills her grave

There's a blank face in a portrait
Even though the features are clearly there
A badly painted picture with a flat, blank stare

BJH
5/10/2009

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I have done more rewriting and perfecting on this piece than I think I ever have with anything. I had lots of encouragement and guidance on a writer's forum I'm on. This should be the finished project.
Editted in 3rd stanza. 6-3-09

"Her New Life"

There's a blank face in a portrait
Even though the features are clearly there
A badly painted picture with a flat, blank stare

Had she wept, suffering when darkness held her tightly
Did a smile ever define pallid lips
Paralyzed gaze never changing
From life to death

Grave after grave lines the hillside
Willows and pressed hands carved in stone
Short, bearded man's seen them all

Her lifeless body lies before him
Like so many others trusted to his hands
But her face captures his mind

Melancholy overwhelms him
He imagines her voice, her scent
Adoring hesitation in his eyes

Even in death she's beautiful
Scent of lavender and cedar masks death's scent
Glint of silver scalpel in his hands

Oozing new blood from a bottle
Glimmering liquid reflects against the wall
Once living fluid drained, discarded

As the cold sets in
The light is fading through the window
Tomorrow he'll begin

Fixed focused vision on his passion
Artist, dual-roled, succumbed
His easeled canvas prepared beside her

Much to his frustration,
His brush takes a mind of its own,
And creates another soul

Unable to enliven her features
Palette a blur of muddied colors
The turpentine burns his nose

No inclination of emotion
Not even pain eluded to
A flat, blank nothing is what the artist drew


(Break, bold sounding)
No light reflected from her eyes
No hate or fear or calm
Still he can't lose her
He tries to give her new life
But all she has to give
Is a blank faced picture

As the cold sets in
The light is fading through the window
Tomorrow he'll begin

She's cushioned in floral slumber
The nails are driven in
To the hillside he takes her

(Very soft and ominous here)
Not a sound from the world
As he lonely fills her grave

As the cold sets in
The light is fading through the window
On a blank face in a portrait
Even though the features are clearly there
Standing in the corner
A badly painted picture with a flat, blank stare

BJH
5/10/2009 -6/3/2009

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Comment for now until I digest it properly:

There was actually a guy who did this. Many ordinary people have had portraits of themselves done by him without realising what he had set up in his studio in the next room. Although his work was completely legal. I forget his name though, unless you are referring to him.

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I'm not sure if this is entirely relevant (because poetry kinda goes over my head most of the time haha) but I remember seeing a documentary about horror and its artistic renderings, and one of the sections of the show discussed a practise which wasn't uncommon back in the day - if a family member (or in this case, an entire family) died without having had a picture taken at any point in their life, a specialised photographer would make the bodies look somewhat less lifeless and pose them in order for a photograph to be taken which the remaining family members could have as a memento. The family under scrutiny in the show were all murdered, and you could clearly see the gashes in their foreheads where the killer whacked them with a hatchet or the like. There were 2 or 3 children in the pic too, from what I can remember. Very strange, I mean I'd rather have no picture than a picture showing the damaged corpse of my murdered brother haha, make-up or no make-up.

The show was "Clive Barker's A - Z of Horror".

Nope, it's purely my imagination. My son said there was a guy who'd bump off people himself just to paint them. I hadn't heard of that. That isn't what this is about though. I'll appreciate any further input you can give me. I was going to disclose more, but I'll wait and see what you say first.
Thanks.

Paddy, we posted at the same time. Thanks for the comments. Anything else? I did say the guy was short.

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"She's cushioned in floral slumber"

That's quite a good line.

Yeah, very Opeth with such imagery as "floral slumber" and the fine, plotted detail.

This is quite a clever line, I only thought about it literally at first but then realised this represents the whole piece:

"There's a blank face in a portrait
Even though the features are clearly there"

It was a good choice for the final verse. The repitition of the first verse in the last indicates that the events in between will probably go forgotten but be repeated.

Clever stuff. Good job.

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Thank you very much. I appreciate the time you took with it.

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Well, Uny already seems to have done the dissection on this one, not much to add in that respect.
This generally isn't my favorite type of lyrics, but it's well done no doubt about it - the remake was a real lift.

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I had fun doing the research to do this piece as well as the challenge to perfect it. I appreciate the commentary. Thanks.

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Now we only need to worry about the assertion that you just plucked all of this out of your imagination... well, at least I'M never gonna visit your attic without outside company.

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lol You wield a chainsaw and are afraid to be in my attic with me. That made my day.

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