I wrote this when my Year 8 class had to write their own poems inspired by Picasso's Weeping Woman:


She crawled finally
through the ice shards
in the middle of the painting.
Outside,
Cannonballs of colour explode,
Shot from guns she has installed on her battlements;
Barricades against someone else’s reality.
Red passion,
Burning against the sun’s zeal;
Cornflower blue,
A field drenched in possibility of endless sky.
Inside,
In the ice chamber
The true colour of frozen hands quivers.
Pale blue
Iceberg tips against the surface,
Threatening to rip through canvas.