The
mind's eye*
elusive
spontaneous
its
beauty
so sad it seems-
this art nouveau
dream
His start was art
That fell apart
To poetry he turned
'Normalcy' ~ spurned
____________________________________________________
Reviews:
"Stunning in its simplicity, Gershon."
~ Simple Simon, the Pie-man
"Precisely! You drive the nail straight through this fop's noggin!"
~ Armand Hammer
"Ugh! Poetry and Art, make me youknowwhaticantsayitinpublic"
~ Pass N. Gas, inventor of the 3-Bean Salad Diet
The French poet&critic Baudelaire
made many a quote sans a care
Genius, being chi!dhood retrieved, at will
a childhood.. equipped with adult skill
A dusk, a glazed verandah, it's just rained,
a smell of lilac, earthworms and wet earth,
an awkward silence - the confusion chained
my tongue: “What if she’ll laugh at? Is it worth?”
A glass of wine casts the vermilion shade
over a tablecloth, a rocking chair
sways quietly, its oscillations fade
as far as you immerse into the rare
edition of “Les Fleurs du mal”* I brought
for you, a curious nocturnal moth
time and again sits on your polka dot
chintz dress, it’s getting late, a creamy froth
of lilac trees spills out of the garden
through open windows. I lament, I bide
my time. Oh, how the words of love are hard in
such an inclement May…
In June you died.
So many years have passed since then, my love.
Wine’s drunk, lilac is gone, the moth in vain
knocks on the screen, only the shadow of
your chair still sways in my delirious brain.
*(fr.) “The Flowers of Evil” by Charles Baudelaire
12.10.2019
Give Me Your Best New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
for Charles Baudelaire
(Paul Verlaine’s sonnet : « A Charles Baudelaire », translated by T. Wignesan.
I thought I’ll first present to readers – they should see why - an unrimed version, and maybe later the strict sonnet form.)
I didn’t know you, I didn’t love you,
I know you not : period, and I love you even less :
I can hardly defend your diffamed name,
And if I have some right to count myself among your witnesses,
Then it’s, first of all, and besides all, towards the Feet tied.
Initially by the cold nails, then the surges of feeling
The women of sin – whose Oh ! how anointed,
So many kisses, intoxicating chrism and kisses full of hunger !-
You fell, you prayed, like me, like all the rest
The souls that hunger and thirst during the passage
Pushed so many well-wishing hopes to reach Calvary !
Calvary rightful and true, Calvary where, then, these doubts
This, that, grimaces, art, tearful at their rout.
What ? To die unprotesting, we, men of sin.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
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