a blessed beast a cow a sow
a slouching silhouette a bitch
a tramp a bitter disease a whore
red too red and all too easy
way she lies
I cannot paint today
this line is wrong
and that leads off to infinity
and only heralds harm,
maybe tomorrow the light will be better
and her memory not so fresh and warm.
A bit of bread and wine
the stench of her admirers
has put me off a bit,
the heavy tread of step upon her creaky stair
annoys me. Those other daring fellows, the ones with flowing hair,
they do not understand the shadows, do not look inside the chair
they cannot see the form within or do not care
they cannot feel the painted trollop or walk within the stare
the mud is wrong the chair is keening like a trumpets blare
the curtains glare. her makeup is too fair.
A bit of bread and wine
the stench of her admirers
has put me off a bit,
I cannot paint today.
Author notes
Written July 28th, 2003
In a list
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A wonderfully entertaining masterpiece. Love the flow , very cleverly composed indeed!
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Good Lord. Are there two Lutes? This is almost metrical, you know. And, which is worse, almost comprehensible.
It's also very old. Never mind: we worms like to feast on scraps, on cold days.
The first four lines suggest a painting, perhaps one of those Expressionist monstrosities: Otto Dix, maybe. One of those paintings of prostitutes and random murders. Or perhaps those Chagalls with green horses floating in the air. Personally I would do some stanza breaks, especially after the refrain in line 6; after "fresh and warm".
There is something villanelle-like about the structure. I think it's the two recurring lines "I cannot paint today" and "has put me off a bit", which are then brought back as the final couplet. That and the section of monorhyme. Another stanza break before "The heavy tread", maybe? (line 15).
I like the rhymed section but this was where there were most glitches, for me. To punctuate or not to punctuate? I like the idea of a chair screaming. "The mud is wrong": that's splendid. Not keen on "trollop". Maybe "whore" would scan better, but of course we've had one of those earlier. Not sure about "the heavy tread of step" (why not just "the heavy tread"?).
I suppose that when you paint a subject, even Gertrude, thickly palimpsested with hangers-on, you have to believe that you and only you can see inside the shadows, and walk within the stare. Or else you'd never paint at all. Whether it's true is another thing, of course.
Anyway, Wormy uses an air-freshener. Cedarwood.
Also: do you know a poem called Wormwood by Robin Robertson? It's very good. Whores are featured, obviously. And absinthe, which makes the heart do something or other.
Okies, not a bad pomey thing I suppose.
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Oh you paint with words and this is truly an artist's touch, strong, flowing, full of tangible images, I can touch taste,feel hear,even smell the surroundings. Bravo.
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I clicked on this because of the title, and I'm glad I did. It's definitley one of the most intelligent and creative pieces I've read here in awhile. I love all the details you give (about the lines, the light, the other admirers). Great write!
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Hi, aa very good write, it has a nice smooth flow which is rare to see these days, great phrasing, loved this write, a pleasure to read, happy new year and may it be filled with joy,Di
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I love it! I think that you have not only captured your muse, but also the act of trying to paint it, directly and indirectly. perfectly glorious.
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I really like your writting. Keep writting =]
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I am wondering if this is a look at the painting that Picasso did of same subject? This is a great visonary look into it and the visual and flow is great. Enjoyed taking a peek at the painter within the words.
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I liked everything but the line "her makeup is too fair" only because Gertrude wasn't fashion conscious and that particular line, somehow, doesn't come across very well. Other than that, good poem!
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this is a very interesting poem... i love the beat of the poem...it really flowed!
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This poem is just...yay. It's what I wish I could write when I'm wishing I could write. Sweet.
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Luter rite pomes.
Jabber read pomes.
Jabber scratch head.
Jabber wish for day someone explain Luter's pomes.
Jabber smiles, 'cuz Plink liked it. -
the stench of her admirers
has put me off a bit,
I cannot paint today.
I like that a lot .... sometimes I can't write .. because of a "stench" -
creaky hair...
makeup to fair..stench of admirers...
see love even among gertrude...ok..how about...
hilda? -
It sounds a bit like frustrated jealousy to me, Lute.
I think you have painted her beautiful, Lute .. and, of course, you understand the beauty very deeply. -
Wow- GREAT flow! I almost think this belongs in the beat catagory for it has a certain hidden rhythm to it. INCREDIBLE write!
Trin -
authoritive
interesting and it held my attention and i loved all the flowing words. kept wondering why it was in red writing and also the music notes at the side put me off as though you were forcing my hand and my direction..a very bossy authoritive poem which surely must be a good thing!!!!love plinkyponk -
I know the feeling
I noticed this in the featured section because of the title and read it because I am a painter
. Is it based on Picasso's portrait of Stein? Full of atmosphere - weariness, frustration, disgust. You have a careful and discerning way of writing and a nice use of elliptical references. After reading this I read several more of yours and am impressed - you've been added to my favourites.
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this is really good, very detailed and just plain enjoyable in general, nice work
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a twist on painting that is your unique style-stamp...but still the same theme, that what is inside can be seen by the artist and can have cause and effect on the result at the end...
"they do not understand the shadows, do not look inside the chair" -
I loved this poem! It had a decidedly 'beat' feel to it, without being too distractingly abstract with your imagery. I feel like I'm in some almost seedy, badly decorated room with terribly glaring reds and oranges that don't quite match so much as threaten to make you throw up .. I can smell a sweet perfume like decaying meat filling the room until it threatens to wrap around my neck and choke me .. And if these frustrations weren't enough, I can hear little creaks of the stairs, snickers in the hall, these little explosions of noise that disgust me to no end .. Truly a frustratingly realistic piece here, filled to the brim with fantastic imagery and meaning.
My cup runneth over, and thou art greatly talented.
Thank you for posting! -
Bravo my good man bravo, this poem to me is remenicint (sic) of Sylvia Plath as well as Anne Sexton. Vivid words portrayed on a grey canvas scape. I agree that you brush is up to the challegen (sic)
Do you by chance give lessons on spelling..
peace be with & blessed be;
shaggy wolf -
well... me thinks... your brush works just fine.....
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