Date: January 13, 2024
painting (nadav_rock_2)
Rumor of the Salon
In whispers of silk on a breath so hush, Two ladies confide, in a moment's crush. One leans to the other, secrets to tell, With a hand to her mouth, where soft confessions dwell. In finery laced with the blue of the sky, One's corseted truth, not a single lie. The other, in gold, listens with grace, A newspaper rests, from its headline's embrace. Their curls are coiffed high with pearls entwined, As they share the stories that weave and wind. In the glow of their youth, with a gaze so keen, They are queens of the parlor, elegant and serene. A testament to the art of quiet allure, With whispers that echo, demure and pure. In the salon's embrace, where rumors ignite, Their tales are spun from the morning to night.
Date: January 13, 2024
painting (nadav_rock_2)
Belle of the Ballroom
In a hall where chandeliers glow bright, A belle of beauty beams in the night. Her dress of blue, with lace so fine, Around her figure, it does entwine. A hat adorned with feathers and bow, Sits atop her curls, a radiant show. Her eyes, they sparkle like stars above, A testament to her grace and love. The corset hugs, the skirt does flare, Each stitch tells of a tailor's care. A whisper of silk on marble floor, She's the dream of the dance, the lore. Her necklace, a string of glistening pearls, Compliments the joy that in her swirls. She holds the room in a silent spell, In her presence, all worries quell In a hall where chandeliers glow bright, A belle of beauty beams in the night. Her dress of blue, with lace so fine, Around her figure, it does entwine. A hat adorned with feathers and bow, Sits atop her curls, a radiant show. Her eyes, they sparkle like stars above, A testament to her grace and love. The corset hugs, the skirt does flare, Each stitch tells of a tailor's care. A whisper of silk on marble floor, She's the dream of the dance, the lore. Her necklace, a string of glistening pearls, Compliments the joy that in her swirls. She holds the room in a silent spell, In her presence, all worries quell.
Date: January 12, 2024
painting (nadav_rock_2)
Ceremony Of Fire
Date: January 12, 2024
painting (nadav_rock_2)
The Summoner Of Winter
In a realm of white, where cold winds sing, Stands the summoner, the winter's king. His staff aloft, with a crystal glow, Commands the dance of ice and snow. The trees stand guard in silent might, Coated in a frosty, silvery light. His beard, a cascade of ancient lace, Frames the wisdom etched upon his face. The air crackles with his magic’s touch, A power that whispers, but says so much. His eyes, a piercing, arctic blue, Hold the secrets of a world so true. Around him swirl the spirits of chill, Obedient to his formidable will. He weaves the spells of the longest night, With gestures grand, beneath moonlight. His antlers rise like thrones of ice, Crowned with a cold that’s all precise. He is the heart of the winter's thrall, Where the frosty breath of nature calls. In his presence, the snowflakes lace, Adorning the earth's forgotten face. The summoner of the winter's roar, A guardian of lore, forevermore.
