In an ekphrastic poem submission, I had written a poem stimulated by a sculpture, or a painting of a sculpture, depicting an old man with a chiseled face sporting a aquiline nose and a scowl — a most unhappy guy appearing to have the weight of the world on his brow.  The painting contained no background information regarding who it represented or the era in which he lived.  So, I had to imagine the identity of the subject, and the meaning the artist intended — using my imagination.  

After spending some time seeking to identify the subject, without success, I imagined the sculpture image to be a troubled Roman emperor near the end of his reign, and the artist’s attempt to portray the Emperor in a favorable light — lest he be dispatched to the Roman Coliseum for the sport of feeding the lions.  The poor sculptor or painter had to be worried.  Hence, he engaged the grumpy emperor to smile, a little.  

An Emperor’s Smile

The artist studied his subject:
Sitting still, mind elsewhere.
“Emperor, try to look 
Happy and smile, a little.”

“I can’t smile, life is hard,
Full of pain and sorrow.
Enemies plot my death
My subjects think me cruel.”

The artist painted true
Leaving the eyes and mouth
Last, pleading once more:
“Please, just a little smile.”

“Paint me as I appear!
I have no cause to smile.
No one cares or loves me,
My final days are near.”   

”But reflect on your youth,
When young love brought joy.”
A fleeting, wistful grin —
Vanished, his scowl returned.

Of course, I do not know how the session ended, but I suspect the artist survived the unveiling of the art work.