Only a small party

illustration by Helen Ward 

so transparent
those expressions on their thin faces
joyous now but harrowing a while back

it is so rare to see a newborn in their midst
it hit their marrows hard
no one ever made a guess
they would see such a day
now that they saw it
they want the grubs either in a soil
or in their heart deeply embedded forever
let me borrow the right sentiment
so that I can march towards them
and take an oath for their safety

yes, they will resist interference
but I will make sure that the resistant is liquid
where I will fry munchies for the grand party

in the naked glory, I forget myself

Monhegan's Schoolteacher, 2004 by Jamie Wyeth 

a lifetime spent in the books
sometimes I forget myself
the shock you feel looking at me reading, 
on that bed, naked, while I dry my hair--
only increases my resilience

I thrive in the words of that book
which has taken me to a world filled with infidels 
who bomb the city at their whim. 
I struggle to understand their promise 
to something beyond humanity. 

a land which is not ours any more 
yet a shelter for a shortwhile
until I harden myself and go out 
to be shipped to an unknown place
where I will lie down spent bereft of my books

"wake up, all of you, before twilight strikes
and we all disappear into the night of ignorance"

patterns don't free us

Spring, 1935 by Kuzma Petrov-Vodin 

my words escaped from my thoughts
a few fell on ground
yet some spread their wings flying above the mountains
when they got tired
those word took a ride on the clouds
I waited for them with you on my side

freedom is what they coveted
who was I to curb it?
I also watched the words on the ground
playing gleefully, unaware of my smile at their pranks
the sentences they made worked fine for me
spiraling words from the clouds merged with the grounded ones

escaped words freed me too,
to bring order to a chaotic mind
you don't have to please me
let there be no apology
let me set you free, 
free to go where you desire

I will gather my words soon and you too
(I know that in my heart)
for now you need to go into the world
I see it in your stance, 
I read it in your eyes
because I have found your words

"in the moorings and bearings
our feet have to dance their fill"

paint me in many hues, not just black

Woman With a Towel, 1898, Edgar Degas 

can you hear her sing, O voyeur
or you searching for that smudge
which was made by your inquisitive fingers
each of her nerve ends stand activated
she stands stellar in her langour
delicious feelings permeates from her
you look at her unblinkingly
that urge to merge with her soul is your mantra now
it is not a broadway show
just a woman in love
wrapped in her inherent femininity 
aren't you glad, technology made your project easy
now you watch her from miles away
such beautiful unity of different entities

"sharp emotions will not get dull
may many summer come and go"




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 I am NOT an advocate for voyeurs. It can be interpreted in many ways. Negatives and positives balance out life. I wrote my first thoughts after seeing this painting. I may, yet, re-wite it. Sometimes we need to post our rough drafts. Read this with an open mind and let me know how you feel....