- \n
- \nhas a large gable’s end symmetry, slightly<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
skew whiff in the canvass that encompasses it. I wonder if <\/p>\n
- \n
- \nshe’s painted herself from within to without<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
\n <\/p>\n
Where she stands now, a cut out dark silhouette, on a patch <\/p>\n
- \n
- \nbefore the facade of splotches, daubs of windows<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
doors, heraldry shields, terraces, hatches. Two doors, right side <\/p>\n
- \n
- \nsharp, left a blur but can i enter, what will i see<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
\n <\/p>\n
- \n
- \nShe knows she’s concealed from me?<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
what will i find, dusty jars, a winding stairway, creaking <\/p>\n
- \n
- \nfloorboards, a chest of drawers, which i will open<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
to secret treasures, but no, i am without with her dark silhouette.
\n
\n \t\t<\/p>\n
- \n
- \nWhat is that luminous blob suspended above<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
her head by almost invisible silvery strands of arms embedding it?<\/p>\n
- \n
- \nAll in the foreground, the sharp, the blur, paths<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
to each door, blotches of rockery, smudged plants, dollops
\n
\n
\nOf green lawn. Overhead, a red angle roof, in the sharp, crows <\/p>\n
- \n
- \nswarm in a blue sky, where it blurs, branches <\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
stretch to entangle, notch the gable corner in weird distortion.<\/p>\n
- \n
- \nBeside this painting is another, a naked Madonna<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
\n <\/p>\n
A faceless oval she kneels, arms clasped behind her sleek black <\/p>\n
- \n
- \nparted hair, her armpits bared to reveal the taut<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
of her breasts, her curves in orange & gold dust.<\/p>\n
- \n
- \nIs it she who waits behind these doors?<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
\n <\/p>\n
- \n
- \nWhen night falls the sea is a distant death<\/em><\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
is The Bed that is a Tree hewn from the stump<\/p>\n post, as a mould for the rest, around which the chamber She is more beautiful than her painter & we know it<\/p>\n the splashes of paint will be softer than our creaking bones.<\/p>\n www.facebook.com\/PoetryLifeTimes<\/a>\n
\nof an olive tree, drilled as a bed <\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
\n
\n \t\t<\/p>\n\n
\nWas built<\/em>, waiting for us to enter?<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
\n
\nbut perhaps if we enter together<\/ul>\n<\/ol>\n
\n
\n* In Bed. Italics. The Bed that is a Tree. Kim Lansky. Italics. The Odyssy. Book xxxiiv.
\n<\/em><\/strong>
\n
\n![\"robin2705\"](\"http:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/11\/robin2705.jpg\")
<\/a><\/em><\/pre>\n
\nRobin Ouzman Hislop, born UK, a reader in philosophy & religions, has travelled extensively throughout his lifetime but now lives in semi- retirement as a TEFL teacher and translator in Spain & the UK.
\n
\nRobin was editor of the 12 year running on-line monthly poetry journal Poetry Life and Times. In 2013 he joined with Dave Jackson as co-editor at Artvilla.com, where he presently edits Poetry Life & Times, Artvilla.com, Motherbird.com.
\n
\nHe\u2019s been previously published in a variety of international magazines, later publications including Voices without Borders Volume 1 (USA), Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N. Carolina), The Poetic Bond Volumes (thepoeticbond.com) and Phoenix Rising from the Ashes (a recently published international Anthology of Sonnets). His last publication is a volume of collected poems All the Babble of the Souk<\/em> available at all main online tributaries<\/strong>
\n <\/p>\n
\nwww.facebook.com\/Artvilla.com<\/a>
\nrobin@artvilla.com<\/a>
\neditor@artvilla.com<\/a><\/strong>
\n
\n goodreads.com\/author\/show\/Robin Ouzman Hislop<\/a><\/strong>
\nhttp:\/\/www.aquillrelle.com\/authorrobin.htm<\/a><\/strong>
\nhttp:\/\/www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop<\/a>
\nwww.lulu.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop <\/a>
\nhttps:\/\/www.amazon.com\/author\/robinouzmanhislop<\/a>
\nhttp:\/\/www.innerchildpress.com\/robin-ouzman-hislop.All the Babble of the Souk<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n