Long Magritte Poems

Gold is your soul


The drive there will be boring.
The arrival so momentous!
The disappointing greeters;
The sights not quite as expected.
The smell at times will be rancid.
The art of it all will be lost.
They will say “Welcome...

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This is a story about a Butterfly

She escaped the Boilermaker
Through transformation. 
To transform required a period of incubation, 
a need to sleep to dream and 
the freedom of quiet self-contemplation - 
of course, such a...

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“The Big Blues and Baptismal Alice”



In the land of the dirty politician
Steely resolve was borne bidding
farewell to thinly veiled conceit and division
that particular brand of milk had long in the tooth turned sour
in her red-hot...

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Hail to the thieves
that retrieve
lost trees. 

Hey! Where do you disappear?

Hail to the piercing taste of a pear. 

Hey! Why do you gaze at me so?

I don't need reality unless it's mine. 

Talk to me....

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"The Double Secret"




I am skin and bone
wrapped tightly around
an immaculate heart that’s hidden
but known to a fierce soul

Human daughter, sprinkled with holy water

Wherever there is Love
Inside you, there is the Light 
to guide Love Home
a...

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**Disclaimer:  This is strictly satire-tongue-in-cheek-written before I became a poet- sort of.  An opportunity to laugh at myself but poets, rock!


Poetry Defined

Poetry is tedious
with its
 silly syntax and similes and symbolism  ...

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it's clouded
obscured
        just enough variety 
    to throw you off
 there's no such thing 
          ...

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steam like smoke rises to join the clouds
       always upwards travel 
    until it's time to gently fall
        directional...

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The art of conversation and Titian
 

Hail to the thieves
that retrieve
lost trees. 

Hey! Where do you disappear?

Hail to the piercing taste of a pear. 

Hey! Why do you gaze at me so?

I don't need reality...

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I'll buy the drinks, that's all that I'm saying
All evening long, don't think about paying
This speed dating lark, it has me in bits
You talk, I listen, you have me transfixed 
This wavelength, a tight rope,...

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I’m greeted by the freshly laundered dawn,
pale slate linen hung to dry above
a stirring city of collective individuals. 
I cherish moments like these,
when I can step out in to the drying day
without forethought or agenda
and...

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The Reckless Sleeper
Copyright July 16th 2009 Corinne Curcio

A dream - the landscape 
Rambunctious subconscious
Plays hide and seek with your soul
You look for clarity
A crumb of charity
Something to swallow whole

But those in the know look backwards
Light...

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I stand alone, though I see another
Frequenting dark corners shouting 'other'
Cloaked in shadow, or a shadow become
Out run, out run, out run, out run

We dance the dance, the dance of death
Match or gain with every...

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my sense of direction isn't reliable 
       did I turn on the spot 
            or do I observe...

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It suddenly struck me as I sat in my familiar chair 
towards the back of the white buzzing café,
a hazelnut terzetto staring up at me,

it struck me what Magritte was trying to tell us
when he...

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Inspired by The Lovers (IV), 1928
By René Magritte 

Lost in a moment
Unconcerned by all I don't know
There is no embrace, though there is connection 
The sharp angles align to place a single kiss
In a dreamscape...

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Eyes and mind work in tandem
To make sense of confusion
Inaccuracies become compelling
You do not wish to see it any other way

For you are the first eye witness
Your account is key
"Confirmation bias" your exotic perfume
Or so...

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Pregnant with intense distress
Fists fly eyes not yet open
Break and fight not fully woken
Metal to metal, bone to wall
Impulse festered in my chest
It did not banish, never left
Hijacked me while I sought rest
A dream of...

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Perhaps I'll never utter another thing of interest
Face outwards, think inwards
Enjoy bread and wine 
Just like others do
The sky will bring joy
I just need to spend time here
Being the same as the rest
Do I drop...

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green apples are time-bound
illusions, handcuffs to an ancient
art; we share a common
ancestor, out on a limb

the butterfly doesn't know the scent
of ripe papaya or that orchids
hang loosely from a primordial sky, we live between
this taste...

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