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Poem

No body parts
Not in the arts
No rhyme or play
Can these display

No satin, lace
just covered face
Yet still it's real
The sex appeal

It’s not the parts
That grace the arts
But prudish minds
That call for blinds

The sculpture weeps
The ink blot seeps
And Donne is done
Without that sonne 

Under attack
Is the Bard, Shak
His bawdy bleak
His plays all weak

The Musee Louvre
Has lost its grove
No statue there
Can be seen bare

Each painting veiled
For pruds prevailed
Enshrouded art
Without a heart

No pleasured taste
For pruds, a waste
Just nature scene
All else, obscene

Forbid if love…
What it’s made of
Comes into light
And brings delight

Though sacred writ
is full of it
and  Song of Songs
Is read by throngs

Passion replete
Makes man complete
No body parts?
Not in the arts?

No love or lust?
Just covered bust
No painting fine?
Or tale sublime?

Forbid it all!!
Art takes the fall
But what is sin,
dwells deep within!!

No body parts
Not in the arts!
but please confess!
Don’t fear redress

Life comes to be
 In you and  me
When these parts merge
There is a surge

And life springs new
That life is YOU
No body parts…..
Not in the arts

It’s only in...
Reality!
So let it be!
Let Art be free!

Eileen Manassian

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