she was a ramshackle, eyesore of a house
Uneven, unsymmetrical, with a plethora of problems
One bright red door made the rest of this mess glaringly sad
And yet, there was a whimsical feeling about this place
Something uplifting, exciting, and promising
my soul felt this as my mind was scrambling to figure out why
She was an unorthodox, maniacal, ramshackle of a place
looked like a haunted house, but in daylight without scariness
Sure, she needed paint, but she had smack dabs of character
She felt inviting, even though her roof was disintegrating
In some way I was drawn in, kind of loving this eyesore of a house.
John William Waterhouse
His Ophelia* not his spouse
but was Esther an artist in her day
exhibiting also at the R&A
It’s not that I am languid, more that I am chagrined.
So disappointed to be met by this dreadful north wind.
I am on my way to see him, and I will look so disheveled.
I am convinced the god Boreas is inclined to be bedeviled.
They say I have a porcelain face and that I never smile.
This is not my usual demeanor my intention is to beguile.
My soft chiffon garment intended to drape my delicate form.
Is now windswept without hope of keeping me warm.
I hold my scarf, my slender fingers holding it in place.
The daffodil I wear remains to draw attention to my face.
My ruby red lips catch the light as they shine like wine.
Hoping my raven hair will still shimmer and appear divine.
Blurred from the gusty wind are my lovely blue eyes.
They say I have undeniable beauty, now I feel otherwise.
My slate-colored scarf billows to resemble a conch shell.
The blackbird fighting against the wind isn’t doing well.
Soon I will be with my dear one in the safety of indoors.
My resistance to this harsh north wind, all for a good cause.
The movement depicted not allowing treachery to advance.
Shows strong resistance between nature and romance.
John William Waterhouse
Esther Kenworthy became his spouse
Both artists of some renown
living& working in London town
I love images beautifully
painted by this man, inspired by
life, poems, mythology,
infused with bright colors.
I admire his style.
British artist,
born in Rome.
Love his
art.
_____________________
November 23, 2015
Nonet
For the contest, Favorite Painter, sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron
First Place
In blue moonlight where Lady Ophelia drifts
the whispered streams in winter's beauty, her eyes
reflecting starlight vaguely float and fade
quietly to grey.
As the breeze kisses her soft white breasts, she sighs
a zephyr to carry her to sleeping worlds
where soporific trees roam the joyful earth
and a goddess dreams.
The curve of her cherry lips that still the dark
waters of a Bardic heart as a poet
feasts at the perked teat of her inspiration
and suspires the breeze.
By starlit springs that let a bard sail rivers
to the shadow lands with flesh perfumed blooms
and perceptions of ancient dreams fall back to
slumber in her arms.