you cannot follow me
when I leave you
late at night to become I:
alone and exclusively
private
within intimate withdrawal
behold
the subject:
idiosyncrasies are for idiot and id
yet luminosity's medication
is meditative in its glaze
and real
the fullness of my upper-
lip
not siliconed
but filled by fainting on the kitchen counter
stark sober
as is the roundness of my breasts
impasto of five babies fed
I do not hide a skeleton
under dabs
of layered veils
I am your safe grisaille
compositionally predictable
with genes mixed by german discipline
and celtic melodies of green
I am your ancient
color wheel
so squint
my Love
to see:
for when I sleep
in edges lost and found
my dreams take me in swirls
to you:
the tender heart stippled
in fingertips its texturedness
in soft embrace gently romancing
rose and rye
the sultry stare
when within a moment shared
the both of us become immortal
in souls’ seething flame of burnt sienna
hastily in etchings deep
to slowly fade
in semi-neutral shades
asleep
in golden sections harmonized
and oft pigmented in soft hue
I have become aquamarine
a fluid dream
and you invisibly
my silver stream
I am the quiver for your brush
and you the maul
holding my soul
Love’s artist
you
so let me sleep
myra
08.09.2006
Author notes
Playing with art's jargons 
Grisaille:
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Grisaille (grĭ-zī', -zāl') (Fr. gris, grey) is a term for painting executed entirely in monochrome, in various shades of grey, particularly used in decoration to represent objects in relief.
A grisaille could not only be executed for its own sake as a decoration, it may also be the first stage in building up an oil painting, or it could be used as a model for an engraver to work from.
For example, the ceiling frescoes of the Sistine chapel have portions of the design in grisaille. At Hampton Court the lower part of the decoration of the great staircase by Antonio Verrio is in grisaille.
The term is also applied to monochrome painting in enamels, and also to stained glass; a fine example of grisaille glass is in the window known as the Five Sisters, at the end of the north transept in York cathedral.
Written September 8th, 2006
In a list
A contest entry
- What About This? ~an image contest with a twist by Ariosto II..
1000 points, ended September 19, 2006, 14 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Poet Laureate of all AP for the year 2007 Contest # 87 at The Winkler by Andantino.
875 points, ended January 12, 2007, 65 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 30 of 30
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asleep
in golden sections harmonized
and oft pigmented in soft hue
I have become aquamarine
a fluid dream
and you invisibly
my silver stream
I bow to your gift
I fondly remember my babes free arm caressing my lovers breast. Little hicgulps... -
masterful and delightful
dearest myra,
whenever I cross your path, your words bring a smile of contentment and peace upon my lips ... you are one of the few souls here on ap who resonate with my own soul's song ... your words are a profound well of wisdom and truth, and extremely soothing for the heart ...
marion
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Yes -- you did Thank you for your kind and sincere words, Whimsy.
Myra -
Congratulations on a well deserved win
I did say it was impeccable
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Thank you for every comment posted on this poem. I read each and every one, and answered by returning the favour. I appreciate your kind words of appreciation, fellow poets.
Myra -
Thank you Leo for being a constant and true friend in both poetic and emotional support.
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I was overwhelmed by your thorough review. It left me speechless. And grateful. Thank you, dearest Friend.
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You never fail to see my work in perspective ... Thank you dearest Heart. Ack.
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Thank you for your very kind words. I am glad you enjoyed my responsiveness. Without Ariosto's painting there would have been no poem. I was drawn to it by the light and the shadow. And the audible silence. There are many poems in that painting. Truly "edges lost and found", as in the act of blending and merging ...
My sincere gratitude for your judging.
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Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write off your artwork. In a sense I had become you and your painting. Endopathy, I call it. Winning this contest is unexpected. It makes me blush. Yet it surely was such a delight to be a co-crafter. I am honored.
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Thank you so much for reading and commenting and for the applause. I appreciate it.
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For me, what is particularly great about this poem is that the narrator is both the painting and the subject of the painting. This appears to have taken a great deal of thought and careful crafting. Beautiful work. Congratulations, too, for your win.
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truly a stunning write- just amazing- I could read this 50 times and still find myself lost in its depth and splendid strokes of light-
for when I sleep
in edges lost and found
my dreams take me in swirls
to you:
such lovely phrasing-
such a joy to find in this contest.
m
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I apologise for never having read your work till now. This is an extraordinary poem.
It is as though the drawing's come to life and speaks to me. The range is terrific,
from the prosaic;
"the fullness of my upper-
lip
not siliconed
but filled by fainting on the kitchen counter
stark sober"
to dreams;
"for when I sleep
in edges lost and found
my dreams take me in swirls
to you:
the tender heart stippled
in fingertips its texturedness
in soft embrace gently romancing
rose and rye
the sultry stare
when within a moment shared
the both of us become immortal"
Wthout ever leaving the actual tactile essence of the drawing.
And here and there by damn....it rhymes!
"hastily in etchings deep
to slowly fade
in semi-neutral shades"
asleep
Wonderful!
Thanks for entering
PS
Many of the drawings in this series acted as 'grisailles' for paintings, working out the tonal structure.
PSS
This background looks familiar
david
Edited on Sep 16, 5:36 p.m. because ''. -
You are a universe of colors before eyes that only see shades of grey, a song, a poem gently caressing deafened ears. But the mismatch between being and perception does not stop you or make you sad, for you live in Light that lives inside you. Ack,
Chris
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Absolutely excellent
This poem, a metaphysical piece, operates and is informed by the metaphor of the science and art of painting:"luminosity's medication /is meditative in its glaze" to "roundness of my breasts/impasto of five babies fed" to "dabs of layered veils" to "your safe grisaille/compositionally predictable' to "melodies of green" to " ancient color wheel" to " heart stippled in fingertips its texturedness" to "flame of burnt (terra)sienna" to "etchings deep/ to slowly fade/ in semi-neutral shades" to "oft pigmented in soft hue" to "aquamarine/
a fluid dream" to "I am the quiver for your brush/and you the maul" to finish with "Love's artist", bringing this brilliantly worked extended metaphor of painting to a close with the concomitant culmination of the spiritual relationship. "You/ let me sleep" is bathos, but wonderfully in context. To date, I have not seen a poem carry through an extended metaphor as well as you have.
This is poetry which almost puts AP to shame (Sorry, dear colleagues!). How beautifully you speak of body and soul ; and soul and soul. An academic paper could be mounted on all that I see in this poem. And some of you may know, that when beginning to dig for wonders more wonders accumulate. Let no one say your poem is not brilliant because every word; every phrase has compacted wisdom; economy of reflections exploding through imagery over thought, tone and feeling.
Look at the searing alliterative sibilance in this one line alone:
" in souls’ seething flame of burnt sienna" & it is obvious that the two souls of the persona and the "you" of the poem are the ones concerned. There is a definite literary allusion to Dante's "Inferno" here. The earthiness of Terra Sienna (or sienna)ties flesh and spirit together in a supernatural way. The re-inforcer "burnt" is quite apt both to painting and to the allusion. Notice the set form natural rhythm assume its own dignity and asuthority. Roll the line around in your mouth. And, this is JUST ONE LINE. NO, THIS IS MASTERLY WORK.
Lyndon of the Winklings.
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Again you have taken the mortal physical desire and elevated it to something spiritual and divine. Your mastery of language and imagery are second to none. Subtle tones of black and white that leave me with a smile. Good luck in the contest.
Sincerely,
Leo Long -
As always you are.. impeccable. Art jargon begs to be painted with doesn't it? It's the speech of passion.
I love the way you wove in and out of groundedness in this.. rather like love itself with its highs and lows.. So many wonderful images but it's the id and idiot line that I know I'll take away and stash in my pocket.. like a pearl.
Edited on Sep 21, 1:25 because ''. -
phenominal
the soft sensual loft of the meter is continuous tantelizing
swell in the air.
you hold the audience on the edge with this
I must say this is geniunely one of your Best.!!!
Tamara
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beautiful it should have a painting to go with it loved the way that you set it out it cant be faulted its smooth nice background too and nice the way you set it out.very romantic but not too overly sweet
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The title lured me in and i am pleasantly pleased as to what i found. I love the the theme of this piece. The word Grisaille is a unique way in describing someone. someone that is multi-colored yet suble... the girl next door, a homely type of person, not fake and plastic. I think you did a great job this one good luck in the contest.
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good! amazing! fantastic!
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such wonderful words you chose to use and i just love the line of the poem. Just because you've had kids doesn't mean your breasts aren't just as good as the next girls! damn skippy! this is just a great poem with a great meaning. keep it up and write more and let me read it all!
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Your use of the language is stellar! I love the peaceful sense I got from reading this wondrous poem. Your muse took hold to unleash a brilliant work. There are so many lines that I love that I won't bother to highlight else I would have to copy/paste the entire work. My PC keeps disconnecting so, I hope this comment gets to you. Splendid work here my sister/friend. I wish you the best in this challenge.
Always Loving YOU ♥
Renee
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i like these lines the best ::
for when I sleep
in edges lost and found
my dreams take me in swirls
to you:
the imagery is simple yet elegant. good job. -
this is a good piece of poetry that you have written here which i enjoyed reading. a good flow and rhythm dances through. spill ink and twist me into the crazy shape of love...
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Awesome! Uhhhh... so AWESOME.
You've got the high brow accompanied by
all the senses. I see the images run
deep........engraving the wall with this
acrylic.
You've accomplished way more than expected.
I pray this goes in the hallway with the
contest-holder's painting. I must admit
I had to look up the titlement in the search.
It's a kind of art, correct? Authored and tagged
by a man whose oils inspired other forms of
art!
I'm so impressed with this that I'm near
a faint.
sooooooooooooo sensuous and meaningful. Thank you
dearest..for the BEST.................Encore, Encore!
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Hi, playing with words like a cat with a mouse,lol, nice one, I enjoyed reading this poem, all the best in the comp,for me could well be a winner, Di
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Elegant!!
I really enjoyed the play with words here and the painting terminology offered, as i see it, is as a fulcrum to the message of life; the perceived and perceiver. Interesting, the painting, here, offering commentary on its own existence, how the grisaille sees herself – a background, of layers, of shades – simple yet so intricately painted and portrayed as you present in the dance, the romance between the artist and the portrait seemingly subject to interpretation, yet definingly significant – because of existence, this life expressed in graphic form yields itself in repose. A wonderful poem, brilliant images. Blessings and best wishes, ~richard
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brilliance surpassed
Your words roll of my tongue like stars roll from the Maker's hand.
How you can take such an everyday (admittedly romantic) subject and write it so majestically, rhythmically, tantalisingly.
The almost incidental rhyme, the form all fit into the whole as naturally as a master carpenter's joints.
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