You left her lying in the field,

sad, afraid, and broken;

you always pointed out her flaws,

but her value was left unspoken.

There was a time you made her walk

behind, in your shadow...

and even then, you put her down

to drop her self-worth low.

Luckily, you didn’t know her

strength or resolution;

you underestimated her

resilient constitution.

She crawled across your fading tracks,

and stood on her own two feet,

then grew and thrived, for even bruised,

her loving heart stayed sweet.

She came across a cave of gray,

where I had crept to hide

and wait until the Grim Reaper

found me asleep inside.

She knew I’d been her first true love,

and saw past all my scars;

her perfect voice woke up my soul,

and warmed my cooling heart.

For she had been my first love too,

back in the days of our youth,

and even though I’d messed it up,

her heart still knew my truth.

So I must give you thanks today,

though friends we’ll never be;

you had her once, but did her wrong,

and now she’s safe with me.

———————---

© 2023 - dustygrein

(based on Christina's World, by Andrew Wyeth)

raise the grasshoppers legs

to your lips

taste the glory

as you shed your form for pleasure,

that amorphous self,

twisting into something almost impossible

to recognize.

something formed of pale flesh

but not quite human,

ascending, flesh rippling

under the soft touch of her ghostly lips,

balancing fears

like rocks upon the skull

distant

for a moment,

sweet relief

found only in images of her

face stretched towards your legs

mere seconds away from

release.

but there are

cracks in this facade.

ants along the grasshopper

feeding

crawling

twisting at the seams

a face within the folds

of your cheeks,

laughing

leering

and from your neck

the roots of rot spread.

you can only have a temporary relief

before the distortion claims you.

golden hair sweeping the space between

your thighs

until it returns

to the rag you had before.

lips return to fingers

and fantasy dies,

reality returns,

a constant battle between

the eternal now

and

the persistence

of memory.

We pick up

the pieces

and put them back

together washed

and squared

and its

never

what it

was

but

who's

to say

that what

was

was

worth

keeping

anyway?

and the what

that remains ajar

the paste, polishes and paints

a more accurate picture

in the frames

of Yesterday...

The canvas's never blank

but is always man made

and she stands before Michaelangelo

where neither can speak

because the point of reference

divides

the two and the three

a spectrum of light

beamed

in excavation

between fossil and bone

the mind and the body

parting like foam

in the mouth

where life is

escaping

the blast...

white on white

05.16.2023

Suprematist Composition: White on White

Kazimir Malevich 1918

https://www.moma.org/collection/works/80385

Imitating Art challenge @TheWolfeDen

It's been so long now but still, I remember.

Alexandre painted me well, did he not?

I wonder who gave him the vision, I wonder why...

It seems I must have a few admirers in heaven.

The world imagined Satan ugly.

A snake, a beast.

Forgetting, despite how wrong they are about me, that evil is rarely ever hideous on the outside.

It festers where you can't see it

Until it is too late.

No victor, no vanquished.

I had love for my father.

I suppose that was what caused the tears most of all.

Beneath every other emotion - the anger, betrayal, that shameful feeling of being humiliated so, the fear of what would come next...

My love burned through it all, twisting like a dull knife in an already shattered heart.

Like the child I was, I had only wished for his attention.

For him to truly see me.

I was only a babe, then.

I do not regret any of my decisions, it was as it was to be but

Even now, I can feel the heaviness and change forever marked upon my self that came with being suddenly away from home for the first time.

The strangeness of your air, your surfaces and textures...

Rock and sea,

Oxygen and gravity.

It was decidedly too much.

Perhaps I should have let it break me.

But I wouldn't be God's fallen favourite if I wasn't too strong and too proud to rise, regardless.

All these years past,

I do not forgive, nor do I forget,

I simply choose not to care, anymore.

Because the fall, painful as it felt then, was nothing more than fate.

And now I have a kingdom of my own to take care of.

A hell where the scum of his creation come to pay their dues.

It isn't a job I take lightly.

My pride has been restored, you could say.

He would tell you my ego is insufferable

But he's the one who agrees to our curious little games from time to time,

Those brief conversations along the millenia...

Perhaps he misses me a little, after all.

A brilliant path to walk along

A colorful song

Easy to lose my way

Life leads you to stray

Blinding

Confining

film covers my eye

from all I cry

The light scatters

Unable to see what matters

I have to think

I have to blink

Take a breathe

Accept

Open up to see

The beauty in front of me

A masterpiece of art

filling my heart

Life in true color

Path of wonderment and discover

(The Goldfinch - Carel Fabritius)

It's a pretty little bird

Who sits all brave and tall

Loud in every way except for words

Like a bird who never falls

Look close and see the bird in chains

Not fighting, resigned to it's fate

The thin golden chain isn't visibly seen

So the bird just sits and waits

Despair is all I've known

As I lay in this room weak and alone

With no happiness nor a home

Only one thing in this world can remember me as I lie

The stars shining upon the navy blue sky

"Come with me," a soft voice whispered from the night

I could not answer in my fright

As it was not from the night

But from my mind

"Why do you fear the stars?"

"I do not fear the stars but the emotions they show I feel so raw"

The need of acceptance in the eleven stars is all I see

As the mourning cypress tree scratches the window beside me

My mind only swirls with the wind in the sky

As I focus on the crescent moon, stars and village in their dim but hopeful light

In this quiet peace is something I might find

As I find my thoughts go astray

'I often think the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day'

The sunset looms, and so too I shall sleep;

Into my austere chambers I retire

And bid my soul and body not to weep

But pray tomorrow doesn’t rise so dire.

Remember this, the day that I am gone,

Behold resplendent architecture, grand

And holy; then to me they would atone

And bury sins like secrets in my sand.

Am I unworthy to be worshiped so?

Has my era ended without fuss?

For Goddess they had called me long ago

Yet still, am I not fierce and wondrous?

My long awaited rest calls forth, serene

Remember me, once everlasting queen.

Also known as The Figure 5 in Gold, this is a 1928 painting by American artist Charles Demuth, inspired by a 1921 poem by William Carlos Willams, "The Great Figure."

The poem is about a red fire engine racing through the street--Engine No. 5. The painting captures the approach and receding via perspective and parallax. The number 5 becomes a character of its own, landing in front of the artist's viewpoint.

So, for this challenge:

Poem --> to painting and --> (to me) back --> to poem again:

* * *

TITLE: Just Another Number

Somewhere was

Belched No.5

Birthed into my world

Emergently

Warble/chirp/trills enter my ears

Sinusoidal perturbations

Crunched to bunch toward me

Acoustically

Precipitous, red, monstrous machinery

Blue shifting forewarns

Juggernaut and Titan

Visually

At me

Time and life move differently

For it and me

Relatively

We intersect at shared

Moment and coordinates

To touch the other

Geographically

Trills and chirps rush away

Howling sirens stretch

And timbres devolve

Acoustically

Machinations on wheels recede

Cutting swath divides the urban sea

That slams back behind it

Visually

Toward the checkered flag, aflame

Emergency rolls on to be

Someone else's problem

Fatefully

Tension and drama settle away

From me to someone not me

Someone unknown

Invisibly

Victims unknown, soon forgotten

My life continues

Without others' problems

Indifferently

Blue skies and a nice breeze,

My lover and I completely at ease.

The clouds stroll by just one by one,

Dancing, floating, and having fun.

Life is light and it glows from within,

Where something must end another will begin.

Musical notes seem echo all around,

But instruments cannot be seen nor found.

Dance with me, will you?

Or stay for a few?

Just to delight in your company for a moment or two.

Just until we see the early morning dew.