Colors and forms,
in oils,
on canvas –
shaped into her struggles,
and desires,
her very essence –
staring back at her.
With the last stroke,
with the last breath,
she leans back
and drops the brush,
now thinking it was never really hers.
From where did this work come?
Master strokes of love
and pain and fear,
in oils,
on canvas.
It is now unrecognizable as hers,
if ever it was.
It is her, and more.
What makes it possible that she
can see herself broken
so wide open,
so naked?
What connection between heart
and canvas?
She is out of body.
She is deep within.
In oils,
on canvas.
Essence of her God in front of her.
Her, in front of her.
Open,
in blinding truth
and staggering beauty,
in oils,
on canvas.
Days go by
in moments.
She moves at last.
And covers it up
and puts it away,
where it will never be seen.
This poem makes me sick. In a good way. I am coming to the conclusion that refrains are little sharp spears that authors send to pierce reader’s hearts. Bloody refrains, bloody refrains, bloody refrains.
Thanks TUM. One never knows how people will respond to a poem. I think that’s been the second most interesting thing for me in posting my poems here. (The first has been how I myself have responded to my poems).
This is really lovely. I agree with TUM there’s something so touching and moving about the refrain but the whole poem is quite beautiful.
It’s funny, I’ve been watching alot of Marilyn Monroe movies lately and this poem brought her to mind in terms of the creation of self as a work of art.
Kindness and encouragement. The hallmarks of the Creative Writing Forum. From what I’ve seen of it, the rest of ILP doesn’t seem to be at all like this…
Thanks, Thirst, and though I appreciate the offer, I was instead hoping to post you at the gate here to help keep this sanctuary of mine unsullied. You seem like good bouncer material to me.
–curious cross reference: Andy Warhol’s Marilym silk screen/sreen-printed paintings among those of other mid-late 20th Century celebs, public figures. No, it’s not exactly synonymous with rainey’s poem, but btrfly’s comment called these images up for me - call it art association.
Having been a visual artist myself before I took the poet’s path full time --occasionally do reannimate the visual artist in me every so often, but I’m nowhere near as active in the visial arts as a mode of self-expression as I was more than a dozen years ago when I was an art student in college-- I can really relate to this poem. I particularly identify with poetry that arouses the mind’s visual imagination mechanism as I read a poem. The best poems almost read themselves to their audience to the point where the reader is not conscious of the act of reading - similar to the idea that the best poems seem to write themselves thru the poet as opposed to the poet consciously writing them.
I don’t know if it was deliberate, but this poem observes what I affectionately call the Magic Rule of 3’s which is applicable to any art form. Think of it in thatrical terms where so many plays come in three acts - this poem comes in three acts: Act I is embodied in the first two stanzas; while stanzas 3-5 could be interpreted as Act II; and the finale/Act III can be found in the final two stanzas. Does anyone agree with this observation or do you think i’m fulla ca-ca? - whatever the case, it’s cool either way ‘cuz I don’t perspire over the minutia. Even though I say this poem comes in three acts, I don’t mean to say there are abrupt breaks from “Act” to “Act”, but there are ever-so-subtle shifts in tone/mood that led me to share this observation. As an analogy: think of a CD --Nine Inch Nails’ Pretty Hate Machine or The Downward Spiral as an apt example-- where sequential tracks aren’t differentiated from one another with a couple moments of silence in between as one track ends and the other begins but rather organically bleed into and overlap/crosshatch onto one another as the next track fades in while the current track is still fading out.
To simplify even further - as another way of thinking of the Magic Rule of 3’s, think of the primary colors which you should’ve learned of in your first art class. You could look at rainey’s poem as having a red act, a yellow act and a blue act but at the same time having orange and green scenes in between that link the acts. Does that make sense or am I blowing smoke out of my proverbial hind-quaters again?
Even simpler:
Act I - the artist’s action
Act II - the artist’s reflection of/on her action taken (AKA: judgement)
Act II - her reaction to the action as a result of the reflection/judgement
The meaning I drew from this poem --which does not imply that I think everyone should adopt my interpretation as the be-all-end-all meaning but rather to think of it as just one among a mosaic of possible interpretations – is that although rainey gendered the character in this poem as female, “she” could be an archetype representing anyone, artist or otherwise, who projects an idealized self to the world or tries to live up to an unrealistic idealized self and judges themselves too-harshly when their actual self doesn’t match their idealized self for which they wish to obtain.
Thanks much for the comment Nels. Funny you mention the three “acts.” I noticed this after I had finished it. It wasn’t intentional. Just seems to be the way it played out.
