Here is a poem based upon the original Victorian supermodel of her time Elizabeth ( Lizzie Siddal)'s life with Dante Gabriel Rossetti:
I recently watched the 'Desperate Romantics' series on DVD and it got me thinking if Lizzie was real or fictionalized by the BBC, to add to the tale of the pre-Raphaelite brotherhood.
It turns out she is real and after reading up and researching her and seeing how beautifully they painted her i felt the urge to write a poem!.
It is still in process as i need to tweak a few things but thought i would share with you my first draft:
Desperate Romantic
Oh my Miss Siddal!
He loves you oh so dearly,
And despite his wondering eye
It's you he sees so clearly!
It started once upon his brush.
When you sat with Auburn hair.
He painted you beautiful like a goddess
Depicted ethereal and rare.
To some you are Ophelia
Saddened and forlorn
To him your inspiration
His artwork is reborn.
Oh my Miss Siddal!
He teaches you to draw
Despite his large ego
He allows you to explore
You paint with such finesse
You sketch a perfect face
He taught you well, he loved to watch
When you sat down to paint.
Oh my Miss Siddal!
He wants you as his wife.
Although he hates commitment
He wants you in his life!
Oh my Mrs Rossetti!
Ten years you did have to wait
But with the ring on your finger
Life's a harder fate.
It saddens me to say Lizzie
Your marriage fails you so
You're addicted to the laudanum
And you're always feeling low
You carried yourself a daughter
But she was not to be
She is sleeping with the angels
While you are left to weep
You hair is lacking colour
It seems you've lost your flame
Your 'Angel' Gabriel, it's all his fault
How you ended up this way.
Oh my Mrs Rossetti
Or once miss Lizzie Siddal
Was it worth ending your life?
When you felt most little.
He throws himself upon your chest
You left nothing but your distant love
Now he is over come with grief
Of losing his precious 'Dove"
Oh My Ms Lizzie
If only you knew!
The obsessive paintings that he did,
his inspiration you.
He wrote you in his poems
He told of how he loved you so much
He saw you as a angel
And worshiped you as such.
He placed his books of poems
That made you true and fair
Sealed with love and tears of grief
and hid them in your hair.
"Sleep well my Darling"
He kisses you goodbye
He cried himself to sleep for weeks
And paints you one last time
Oh my Miss Siddal!
Your life couldn't of been more
We shall know your face forever
In the eyes of Ophelia and Beatrix, looking all forlorn.
