Painting 7: FORBIDDEN
Before darkness steals the light of day,
entering as graceful as the morning mist
in the window ajar, the bitter breeze:
freezing me.
My light clothes short - dances with the curtain
but like the clouds, calm; I stand. My splayed
hands upon the glass condensation.
I exhale in the cold, enduring dreams surge.
Over the years, my golden hair has grown
an old rugged toy is my loyal company.
My eyes journey into the quiet of the world outside.
I wonder what is beyond the sketch of towering trees
as each time the wind lullabies.
I behold their branches' dipping and bowing;
I wish to smell the pines released, they tease.
I am a young girl and I am full of dreams.
Time races and I am forbidden; the limitless
horizon lures. Oh how long, I've wanted to reach,
I've wanted to touch. I've wanted to fly,
I even cried and shouted, I waited,
and waited but no one frees me.
_____________________________________________________________
~~Inspired by the painting: Child in a Red Apron
(L’Enfant au tablier rouge)
Berthe Morisot
French, 1841-1895~~
__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__
I paint your beauty in my heart and mind
in swirling strokes of wind squalls and light;
the youthful lift of limbs of early spring,
with summer’s joyful red, with fall's surprise.
I paint you in wonder of winter’s white
through snow storm's chill and my loving eyes.
I paint you beyond the blue pain of the past
with the gray of fear the future hides.
Jealous of luring space and power of time,
yet, with all the hope, the joy, the ache
as seen in the strength of my trembling hand;
I’ll paint you again my child, mesmerized.
After: L'Enfant au Tablier Rouge, 1886 by Berthe Morisot
For Debbie Guzzi's Challenge: Ten Pictures, Ten Poems, Ten Days - Painting 8
Kim Patrice Nunez
17 January 2016
Painting #8
L'Enfant au Tablier Rouge, 1886 by Berthe Morisot
Her Red Apron
Tied to your apron strings
she wandered, wondered
wondrous things
about the snow
covered trees.
Put your mind at ease
now, once and for all.
Her young mind
is colorful and curious,
more privileged than most,
spoiled but respectful
and courteous as
a little princess
in fairy tale land.
She will dream
unlike your dreams
for her, but her own.
She shall flourish
in time, her red apron
reflecting the color
of her love
for you.
MICE AND ME by Jeanette Jones (01.11.2016)
based on PORTRAIT NO 8
L'Enfant au Tablier Rouge, 1886 by Berthe Morisot
MICE AND ME
Inside my lonely room, I dream.
Old man winter’s stamped his mark
across the fields and mountain tops.
The faint breeze through my window,
allows a brush of his presence on my face,
this makes everything ok.
Scuffling across the floor, tiny mice
whimper in the same sultry air;
an old soul, mom calls me,
for allowing them here,
to dream in my space and share my air.
To reach the sill,
I allow them to climb my red ribbon,
if they can catch it in the wind.