(c) 2011 by Oana For years now my unborn son has followed me I don’t need to see him I know he is there He just shows up Been trying to explain to myself and to him certain things He never wants to listen He covers his ears He ignores me He follows me in the most unexpected places Hugging my pillows, hiding behind me when I go on dates Dismissin
' YOUNG GIRL BATHING: Painting by Auguste Renoir (1890) Poem by Salvatore Buttaci (1994) Not a stitch! Oh, if ma mere and mon pere could see me now! Their little daughter naked as the day she first saw the light. Let me say Pa Pa would put enough of his belt to me that no artist would ever care to paint me again. I should tell you I am not a mo
A BOWL OF PLUMS Painting by Jean-Baptiste Simeon Chardin, 1728; Poem by Salvatore Buttaci, 1994 Clarisse was not at the market this morning. What made me think she would be? How many mornings have I walked the dog, battled with him at the leash because it was not his usual route, a neigh
THE IRONING LADIES (LES REPASSEUSES) Painting by Edgar Degas, 1884. Poem by Salvatore Buttaci, 1994. "I have had my fill, I tell you! This morning I could have slept at least till noon but Claude up early before the geese, raged in another of his foul-mouthed moods, not finding this or that, blaming me-- Can you imagine, Jean
THE BALCONY (LE BALCON) BY EDOUARD MANET (1869) Whenever I look at a famous painting, I often wonder what the model was thinking about as he or she tried hard to maintain the pose given by the painter. Pressing concerns? Daily problems? Love gone sour? New-found love? And in a still life who owns the dish of fruit, the bouquet of flowers, the wine
You can't see it, but there's a silencer at the end of her pistol. Does Your Gun Need a Silencer If You Plan to Kill a Mime? who can hear in the forest who cares if the tree falls there on the city concrete the mime bobbing like a stringless marionette acts out a wordless life heart beating without sound hands and face dotted with
THE WOMAN IN GLOVES (LA FEMME AUX GANTS) by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1891) What is going through the mind of the woman in gloves? What is she thinking about the man she loved, the man who abandoned her? THE WOMAN IN GLOVES I have not blinked an eyesince his train left Paris!Outside the compartment windowthis moment finds him, I'm sure,staring
Do me a favorDon't question My ability to do things my wayI've Learned from my mistakes Not even if you've been thereTry walking a mile in my shoesYou probably wont be ableTo deal with what I do Mind your own businessI wont ask you againKeep your noseOut my life and be on your way Let me be, free I'll do what I pleaseI take care of myselfNever ne
Dear Daddy, As you may have already guessed, somebody said something to me that made me sit back and reflect. They said I worshipped you. Made you seem like a better man than you really were. That hurt my soul. That hurt my heart. Ultimately I am a daddy’s little girl. But I would like to think that through my writing I show nothing but complete ho
“You see world, you’re no good/No matter how I hate flashbacks and rewinds/Can’t escape the pain that be trapped in my mind/Now you see world, you’re no good.”—J. Cole “See World” They were true innocents—bright futures and long lives ahead of them. Sadly, cut short by the evils of this world. And what makes me sad is that they never had a chance t
Yes, my body still craves you But there are those other women … I know I will not fall in love.
Softly your hands move over my body Softly your thoughts move over my soul Harshly and mercilessly your body crushes the physical Me Harshly and mercilessly your thoughts crush the immaterial Me There is blood. And also lots of pleasure The more blood, the more and deeper the pleasure The more brutality, the more and deeper the realness The more te
I hear you passed through town Spent a few days here The calls didn’t go through, I know The flowers you planted last year for me Cried. © 2011 by Oana
