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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MAGPIE...Prompt #128

                                                        Image/ Black Dog/ Zelko Nedic


Thanks to Tess at MAGPIE TALES...


THE REAL BITCH

A black dog
in the company of dogs.
Hecate's gone for a stroll.
Triple goddess of my earth,
my moon,
my Hades.

Paint, she says,
leaving a list of do's
and don'ts,
starting with absence:
no color.

Consider:
shade of night,
storm clouds,
a wolf's lair,
closed eyes,
old wounds.

Stilettos click the return.
Anubis, her pet,
will tattle-tale all.

Maybe she'll like it.
And maybe she won't.


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MAGPIE...Prompt #127

                                                 Figure Eight/ Franz Kline/ 1952


FOR THIS WEEK'S Mag...a Pantoum..for Tess, at Magpie Tales.


CIRCLET

There's something about a crown of thorns
separated from the rose
all dread, no green days left
piercing all that's luminous.

Separated from the rose
there's nothing good about a crown of thorns
piercing all that's luminous
a clasp of barbs to pinch the skull.

There's nothing good about a crown of thorns
rests in the minds eye forever
a clasp of barbs to pinch the skull
once seen, never denied.

Rests in the mind's eye forever
all dread, no green days left
once seen, never denied
there's something about a crown of thorns.


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MAGPIE...Prompt #126

                                              Yesterday's Dreams/ Jack Vettriano


THANK YOU, Tess, for this Magpie Tales.........



PANDORA'S MEDITATION

Let's live.
Let's try life again.
I wake up at the first slap,
squint at God's Tree,
it's Eden again.

Eternity absorbs me
between
drawing in a gulp of air
and puffing out.

Breath is all I have,
the only proof that I exist.
Everything else is embellishment.
Untie the box.

A broken China doll tumbles out,
her neck embroidered by tattoos.

Love you, love you baby.
My breath is all I have.


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MAGPIE...Prompt #125

                                        Chilmark Hay/ 1951/ Thomas Hart Benton



THANK YOU, Tess, for Magpie Tales....


PITCHING HAY

Hay thrown to the wind,
gold spun into daylight.
The grateful heart gleams within,
glorious ray of paradise,
ever a better morning than this?

All movement in the hillock stops.
The eyes of a rodent
lock in catatonic dread.
See me, fasten on me,
sip a last breath.

Will his darting
be swifter than my whack?
Placing the act in beauty
helps me forget.

Pull back, pull back,
you will see
the birds-eye view of splendor.



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MAGPIE...Prompt #124

                             
                                                                     Ophelia/ Odilon Redon


THANK YOU, Tess, for Magpie Tales.


SINKING

Remain, lift me.
Keep me from sinking
into a gothic tragedy.

I lunge for your words,
like souls dive for spirit,
splitting time in half,
sinking and rising,
flirting with calamity.

I wait for the current
to flush my heart
clean of yearning.

Courage breaks
and damsels sink.
Not under yet.
Rescue me.


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Magpie...Prompt #123

                                            Orson Welles/ Touch of Evil/ 1958



WHAT A GREAT CHALLENGE!  Thank you, Tess, Magpie Tales.


HAM ON WRY

Listen Charlton, sweetheart, by-pass the cold buffet, the only thing left is a very dead sardine with glassy eyes.  All I got was a crab that looked like Hitchcock.  Go straight to the foie gras.  Marlon's jumping it like it's going out of style.  Then head for the hot stuff.  They'll cook your goose just the way you like it.  I even had to push Janet aside so I could take a dive into the innards.  Dumb broad is on a diet!  Eating something green!  Makes me shudder, kinda nasty, a touch of evil, if you ask me.  I told her to put some meat on her bones, or it'll be curtains for her.  If looks could kill.  After you lunge into seconds, make sure you finish with the Orson pudding, noir sprinkles on top.  Okay, baby?  Who said I'm a legend in my own mind?

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MAGPIE...Prompt #122

                                                        Puddle/ 1952/ M.C. Escher


I THINK A PANTOUM has the right dimension to reflect Escher's angles....thank you, Tess, Magpie Tales.


FACETS

Last dance at the end of the world.
Pull me close, hold me tight.
We U-turn through time,
swan along the footpath.

Pull me close, hold me tight.
I reach to grasp your fingertips.
Swan along the footpath,
splash across a mirror.

I reach to grasp your fingertips,
polished into gleaming facets.
Splash across a mirror,
a kaleidoscope revolving.

Polished into gleaming facets,
we U-turn through time,
a kaleidoscope revolving.
Last dance at the end of the world.


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MAGPIE...Prompt #121

                                                       Still Life/ 1670/ Jean Francois de la Motte



THANKS SO MUCH, Tess, for Magpie Tales.


AWAKENING

Some words
don't mind
clinging to walls,
some crumble
into the bindings
of remainders.

Some refuse
to ever stick
to flypaper,
and brazen ones
must always be shouted.

"Awakening"
comes after alpha,
but if you're blessed,
way before omega.


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MAGPIE...Prompt #120

                                                          Image/ Klaus Enrique Gerdes


MANY THANKS to Tess...at...Magpie Tales.


PLENTY

I am the I am,
a plentiful god
whose blood may flow
in the vein of a peach.
A green apple
splits within me,
beats like the heart of Eve.

I'm on the bee's journey,
adrift on air,
gathering honey
to drip from my lips.

Spit out the stone
that plants itself
within you
like an evil eye,
know yourself
to be a bouquet of spirit.
Do you want to be me?
You are.


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