He painted her often:
as she strolled in a green dress,
with himself at a luncheon,
or simply on a garden bench.
But now he focused solely on her forehead,
on her inexpressive face.
On her eyes, forever silent--
in her shroud of ashen gray.
Author notes
Claude Monet often painted his wife, he did one last time on her deathbed.
Line two: http://www.latifm.com/claude_monet/large_image/camille.jpg
(Lady in A Green Dress)
Line three: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/74/Monet_dejeunersurlherbe.jpg
(Le dejeuner sur lherbe)
Line four: http://lh3.ggpht.com/_aOhmEki8EPo/R9yz4uswFkI/AAAAAAAAGIs/DhNsnMis3rM/Camille+Monet+on+a+garden+bench.jpg
(On A Garden Bench)
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Comments
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I happened here again ...
and I'm growing to love this painting and your poem that goes with the references to Monet and his beloved. How often I pass those knotholes in the trees as I walk off the beaten path and I see those forms and faces that catch my eye and sometimes my camera lens ... but this is such a compelling face and I'm glad that both of you bothered to share it! Lovely ... and surreal! j y -
very nice...
all joking aside, I really enjoy how you've ran with the images.
btw, you know who else cherished their dearly departed mates? Dahmer. Yea he was very sentimental that way. Boy if only he could paint...maybe he wouldn't have been so clingy.
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Ok, you have a point there. I guess Claude Monet was a little insane...I don't think he drilled any holes in his wife's head, trying to make her a zombie, but who knows, it was a long time ago!
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THIS one's got FOOTNOTES! The reader has to wander off the page to go look at illustrations. But then, you DO give the links, so it's not like the reader has to start their research from scratch, like with the one with the bird. So...I'm not sure if this makes you MORE high maintenance or LESS.
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Charming and poignant
A fine tribute to an amazing artist whom I admire.
I will withhold all my humor... in respect for the departed, but it is taking every ounce of my restraint. 
I love poems about death and graveyards and like to write them, so yours makes me feel right at home. 
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Do you like poems about death and graveyards? I didn't know that...that explains the dead boy though!
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Aye, death and graves... and my hobby is visiting graveyards where I copy down headstone poetry that I especially like.
Cemeteries (I like to call them graveyards because it is more poetic,) are filled with three things I love: l. History, 2. Art, 3. Poetry. PLUS, very fine people reside there.
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There's a certain peace about the painting with its haunting image.
I liked your contrast of green dress in the beginning with the gray shroud at the end.
I thought you said you weren't a poet...could have fooled me.
Interesting...I was looking at Monet's poplars yesterday.
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We have our moments when taters take center stage. But I never got around to telling you I used to weigh my potatoes so I always knew which was the biggest one I ever grew...that takes hick to a new level!
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Never saw Monet poplars that I know of. We call them Popple here. We're kind of like hicks...umm, we are hicks, lol
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Reminds me of a children's book "Jaime O'Rourke and the Giant Potato". The tater fed the entire village. He became famous and well respected.
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Ah nothing says "heartwarming" children's story like the Irish potato famine!
Tell me about the one with the black plague in it!
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Well, since you asked...Ring around the rosie...
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Oh my, ring around the rosie...
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You are very adept at diverting attention away from your poem
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Diverting? I just like playing!
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I'll send you a link or you could just google it. Whichever.
I hear hicks talk about potatoes alot.
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your poem brought life and beauty into the portrait...poignant though sniff sniff sniff
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Thanks
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WOW!
now this is a charming poem, although sad in a way, it captures the paint of memory and displays emotions of shadows that many try to avoid. You talent seems to be just underneath an exterior that waits to be unearthed. Serious is as serious does and let that candle shine for there is a light that I see eminating ... Nice sharing Yem, j
y
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What a poignant expression of loss.
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Yes, Monet was quite distraught at the time. Thanks for stopping by emi.
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Ah, I can only feel sadness
as I read the words and
gaze at the painting.
but then I see the glint of life
in each stroke of color, and remember
all the other paintings filled with
colorful daubs, remember their quest,
their break from tradition, the light
they brought to the world, the Impressionists.
Thank you for the contrast of life you brought
with your words.
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