The Poetry Marathon

Hour 22 Lady in Black Ekphrastic poem

22 2017 Ekphrastic poem

Lady in Black
by Paul Robert Sanford

Style and elegance trump comfort in her pose
head turned sharply to the side to show her chiseled profile.
Wasp waisted from wearing iron corsets
which over time move the woman’s internal organs permanently.
With an impact on childbirth unknown to me.

One hand tightly and uncomfortably grips the table
to support the pose.

Note that she is thoroughly draped
but her fine white shoulders are exposed and the bodice dips across her bosom.

Although the pose seems elegant, the upper body is curiously detached from the lower,
giving a stiff rigid feel to the pose,
almost as though the flesh had been painted separately and the fabric lower parts filled in later
with all their shiny and elaborate folds and shadings.

Look closely at the unnatural pose of the right arm compared to the staight and unstraibned left.
The head is also turned in a way that might easily be uncomfortable, but elegance demands the pose.
The hair, piled on top of the head, is represented by the painter in a more haphazard manner
than the detailed shadings of the fabric, once again giving the feeling that we have
two paintings, possibly even by two different artists.

A woman of grace

She’s  the goddess of the universe,

And she deserve love and respect.

Her beauty is mesmerizing

And  watch out, you can be hypnotized.

Her beautiful eyes are impressive, she has a kindred spirit.

The curve of her hips are gracefully swaying like a swan in a lake.

She’s the Venus on earth and her Mona Lisa smile is very captivating and charming.

And her long and shiny black hair is her crown glory.

A perfect persona, magnetic and very appealing.

 

 

 

 

 

Where my inspiration lives

Waves of creative oceans crashing into beaches of creativity

Mountains jettison out over the scenery

Inspiration hid like trees in a forest, virtually meeting you at every turn.

Mania often thought of as inescapable dare not trespass on these lands

Open for interpretation

Happiness unprecedented. A land of freedom.

Ode to the Lady in Black -22

What woman stands alone? What angle in her tone?

What frame of life is this? What lies beneath cold gaze?

What restraint in posture? What unasked question phrased?

 

Here power lies like ebon coals, yet under wraps,

seem stronger; therefore your gaze, gaze on;

Not clear to the eye what you intend, but clear to watch

At least for now.

Fan gripped with lust, perhaps with yearning,

as time goes on, the heart keeps burning.

 

Timeless in her profile, oh wondrous woman.

The time shall come when none recall

Why she gazes after all.

Perched on the edge

hand resting just so

eyes looking backward, dare not to show

deep longings for you left lone and unmet

bare from chin to deep between my breast

my flesh craving your sweet caress

perchance you hand may come to rest upon my upturned and waiting breast

an open heart for love laid bare

waiting and wanting, dressed and draped

fearful that mourning my life will take

paled by your absence on this night

 

and what say you for kindness sake

as yet another young lass you take

 

 

 

 

 

Hour 22- ekphrasis

Portrait of a Lady

alabaster skin
against a mermaid gown
in black velvet
as easily cast aside
as the slaves
that helped her into it
breath held
she steadies herself
on the society
that put her in a corset
to keep her in her place

the dance – #22

she stood there for a long time
admiring this stranger from across the room
watching his hand at the small of his dance partner’s back
the way they glided effortlessly around the room
she couldn’t turn away
studied his broad shoulders
his dashing eyes
handsome face
and the longer she watched, she became acutely aware
of her hand on the table beside her
allowing herself to rest on its hardness
she continued to stare
could not resist the urge to let her eyes
follow the length of his legs
from foot to waist then waist to floor
wondering if she had ever been held as close
surveyed every single expression he made
the music slowed and in the spur of the moment
realized how altogether lonely
she really was

Chocolate Grace

My lovely swan, to whom do you petulantly gaze,
Elegantly craning your milky neck just out of sight?
Or do you pose for the painter, brushes on pallet
Oozing spirited sex and sass in the casual clasp,
The table’s edge between a thumb and forefinger?

Black satin ensconced fingers of a soft left hand
Grasp the falling black sash, ebony on steely night.
Who’s there off sight that your shoulders pull back
Flaunt your perfect posture, taut in practiced ease?
Turned out, not up, your nose points us the way.

Is it your fragrance, some Paris perfume you sniff
To flare the nares so regally as if scent sculpted you
From birth, the way your pretty pout folds into a chin
Equally sharp as the peaked nose round arced brows.
I adore the flashes in auburn lit hair swept into updo.

The sun would have streaked you strawberry blonde
Had you graced it with your presence, though clearly
Pale skin that would appear ghostly on another moon
Reflects embarrassed by its dusty light comparatively.
How I’d rest my chin in the curvature of those chains.

A hand I’d rest at the crease of your gown, just above
The impossibly narrow circumference of your waist,
A circle flowering thick bosom and hips begging me
Take notice: a crafted sexuality seething underneath
Discretely teased, in rich chocolate grace and ease.

 

#10 woman undone

centered in the sun,

yet whiter than a snow-filled

cloud, washed in suds of

silver clementine. masquerades her

smile as privilege;

a woman, one never wants

to be. perished is a goddess,

a tilted nose to scoff this, wearing

her shroud amongst guests

that are living. in whose room,

she waits, pending.

 

 

 

 

21 “NEAR DEATH”

I thought I was ready

On Death, my ready quip if ever a question was posed on me:

“I am ready, anytime, anywhere. My only wish is

let it be an instant, painless going away.”

But my mettle was tested 2 days ago.

Going down from 18th floor of our building,

I noticed that the lift was acting strange.

True to form, a fast and sudden jolt downward and stopped abruptly

No indication on what floor, no sound nor motion, nothing.

I pressed the emergency button.

An alarm sounded but another heavy jolt

and downward motion followed again.

My composure was shaken with every jolt

and downward motion, of course.

Is this my end?

Although it’s instant (whew!) and painless (?),

I come to thinking that slow death is not my cup of tea too.

I again pressed the red button and another alarm sounded

but no help came and another jolt

and the lift stopped at the 5th floor and opened its door.

I immediately got out of the lift, dashed for the stairs,

and now the alarm is on.

This, I think, is His way of telling me –

“You’re full of yourself, here’s for your high talks”

All my bravado went down the drain

Proceeded to the stairs, a welcome sight!

Slowly, one step at a time (shaking), reached my floor, 2nd

Humbly, I declared that I am not ready as I claimed

I was a scaredy-cat, my knees shook and turned to jelly

Sat down on the steps and heaved a sigh of relief.

So, still humble and boast-less, mumbled a prayer

“Lord, let Your will be done.”