Archives - November 2011

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Nov. 19

A Sad Poetess

70

Morning Song

I've been obsessed lately with reading Sylvia Plath.  I find myself going back to her poetry again and again.  (Don't worry -- I'm not suicidal.)  This is her poem "Morning Song," written after the birth of her daughter.  I feel so sorry for both mother and child, but it is a magnificent poem.  She doesn't seem to have the innate joy I felt when my own children were born.

 

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.

The widwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry

Took its place among the elements.

 

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival.  New statue.

In a drafty museum, your nakedness

Shadows our safety.  We stand round blankly as walls.

 

I'm no more your mother

Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow

Effacement at the ...

Nov. 4

Allegory of Europe

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Ekphrastic Poetry

The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston is having an Ekphrastic poetry competition.  They picked nine disparate pieces of art.  I'm going whole-hog and submitting a poem for all nine.  This first one is Allegory of Europe, an oil painting by Jean-Baptist Oudry (1722).  I did a little research on him and discovered that a great number of his paintings are of dead animals.  Strange, huh?  Then I discovered he was commissioned by the king of France to paint the royal hunts.  Those dead animal portraits made more sense.  This is my entry:

 

The Royal Artist

 

Jean-Baptist Oudry, the French Baroque painter,

was bestowed with a title by Louis the Fifteenth:

Painter-in-Ordinary of the Royal Hunt.

 

How happy he is to paint this staged scene,

emboldened by the marble bust of Minerva,

ancient goddess of wisdom and inspiration,

as ...

1
Listening to the whispering pines

Hello. My name is Donna Cozart Pauley. Welcome to The Whispering Pines, a literary blog dedicated to my love of the written word. It is an eclectic collage of my life -- from my poems to my stories to my family to my pets to my causes to my photographs to my recipes to my love of teaching to my favorite literature. Please feel free to comment. Words are only important if they are heard or read. Just like those soundless trees falling in the forest.

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