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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     take your thoughts
        stuff them into a non thing
  the thoughts 
     and the nothingness 
  ...

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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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Once reflective 
now the glass just holds what you painted upon it
      smashed up pieces
               ...

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stop me if you can
contained, we are all safe -
little thoughtless packages
if I don't think it, you won't have to 
you know, the "how do I get out?" question 
     ...

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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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all things are covered over
given texture, rather than context
so much so that it all becomes hard to believe
until you realise, you didn't need to believe at all
nothing matters - is the stark reality 
let us...

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I cannot scream 
          at the laws
             of the universe 

   ...

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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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I see the wood from the trees is taken
     they bare no malice in their spent state
just disappear
   leaving a lonely landscape
I linger in the drafting of possibilities 
...

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concentrate on periphery 
it's less dangerous or slippery 

edges blur, focus soften
don't question reality so often

frame the answer that you avoid 
then let thinking slide so not destroyed

disregard what's out of view
it may be core...

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I'm the dead-eyed stare,  
tied up in stories of self I can't feel.  
Lighter than air, the breeze  
stole the blue from my eyes,  
tangled me in who I wish I...

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firstly notice the neatly combed hair
arms and hands would be needed for that
I detect something amiss
the breadth of those shoulders
not those of a keen swimmer 
how location and the individual attributes conflict
whilst beauty is only...

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Drips drop, it's the way of things
You can try and be too clever 
Contain it, protect yourself
But it's better to be rained upon

It's all so beautiful before it's shaken 
A perfect balance 

It's the chaos...

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