MAGPIE...Prompt #132

                                                  BIG ROOM/ 1948/ Andrew Wyeth



THANK YOU, Tess, for Magpie Tales...


SHADOWLESS

The rooms are draped
in the end game.
We are all dressed
and departing
for an untouched milieu.

A specter gazes
from a crack in the wall,
straddles its world,
with one ectoblastic foot
in dreamland,
the other set to frolic here.

A shadowless being
impatiently looks out
for the next wake-up call,
knowing that only
substance casts a shadow.

Just killing time,
reposing on the stuffed owl,
fluffing feathers,

waiting for the open door,
again to worm its way
into life's commotion.


Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012


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MAGPIE...Prompt #131

                               Under Windsor Bridge/ 1912/ Adolphe Valette



THANKS, Tess, at Magpie Tales....


WINDSOR TOWN BRIDGE/ JACK

He rests against an arch of the town bridge.
Each night getting behind the wind,
waiting to pick out an approaching shape.
The rough granite
scrapes a stain across his back.

He prepares to shift
into his dream of flight.
A huge raven tonight,
more astonishing than a phantom,
cymbals suddenly hum some one's ruin.

An intention carries him
into each shadowy night,
thunder imprints a fresh cry.

Did she hear him
when he breathed
and stopped?
Last night, when sleep sealed lids
shut at midnight,
she leaned against the rain
sloping into her face.
Why didn't she run away?


copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012


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MAGPIE...Prompt #130

                                          Image/ Francesca Woodman


Thanks, Tess, for the intrigue at Magpie Tales...


RENOUNCE

I cannot rip your womb
any more, Mother.
Another tear,
and all innocence
is lost forever.

Waiting in the deepening tide,
the ocean deceives me
with its melody,
as if life is an opera.

Venus chants her seduction,
knows the words
to thrust me on.

Can't I float back,
avoid gratitude to the giver,
renounce the life,
take away all praise?

But you're waiting
to show off the gift,
to see a new blaze
and how I burn.


Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012

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MAGPIE...Prompt #129

                                        A Dinner Table At Night/ 1884/ John Singer Sargent

Thank you, Tess...at Magpie Tales...

MR.SARGENT COMES TO DINNER

My poor heart,

rising and falling

like a sparrow in my breast,

how long it's been

since my beauty was deified,

Mr. Sargent.

The souvenir of my profile

suited the world,

buttressed what I was starved for.

You sanctified me,

a forever nameless Madame X,

an icon,

and now my beauty crumbles

quicker than my weeping.

I was the fire in intimacy

before it dies.

The painting is me forever,

I'm grateful,

and here am I

selling myself to you, Mr Sargent,

willing to pay this time.

Paint me as I am now,

stirring coffee after dinner,

two lumps or one?

                                                               Sargent/ Madame X


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