The Umbrellas, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Will you ever tell me your real name?
Does it forever have to be Grisette?
Oh dear you make it a terrible shame,
When our paths do cross you are ever wet.
Shall search every milliner’s shop yelling,
Où est ma Grisette, with an umbrella,
Held high and a big smile will be wearing.
Shame willing to chance to be your fella.
Under my umbrella you need to be,
As you are chilled. My warmth can give to you.
Clouds are heavy, rain through the night, maybe.
By my side you shake. Red lips are now blue.
Come with me, as my room will keep you warm,
And I watch so you don’t suffer furth’r harm.
This painting was done by Renoir, and he is calling our the viewer attention to the class differences in France. Notice how the young lady in the lower left forefront standouts for two reasons. She is the only Grisette in the painting and the only adult without an umbrella. Grisette refers to a young working-class Frenchwoman which is derived from the cloth used to make their dresses. The model for the Grisette is Suzanne Valadon who was the female dancer in the Danse à Bougival. It is also that that she was a lover of Renoir.
The basis for the poem is simple chivalry and passion. The speaker will do most anything to learn more about this young lady but will not take advantage her. And she places a cat and mouse game with him. Why is it every time they encounter each other she is without an umbrella? If she had one she would be unable to share his and get close to him. But we see there are risks. In the game of love there are risks, here it was her health.
Reverie, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
The tenebrous sky welcomes reverie.
This melancholy is due to weakness,
Of my heart, lost love causes revery.
Books of the heart do not make happiness.
Poems I read did not my spirits rise.
The tears brought forth were not by heartfelt joy.
One so strong starts to kindle. Then it dies.
Do I chase the faux that’s not to enjoy?
Still in my heart is a love that beats true.
Yet did lose him to who thinking I am.
Paid the price for the change I tried to do.
Tis I who must change to remove this dam.
Love is like a rope, strength within its weave.
Love is stronger tied in knot, neither leave.
Camille Corot paints a young woman of deep thought in this painting which he titled Reverie, which is an abstracted state of absorption. The costume the model wears is south eastern European which I could find no reason for it. If she is in deep thought and has been reading a book she must be thinking about some form of change in her life. At her age what else is there but love. My thinking is if you are in love with someone you do not try to recast that person. You accept their love as-is. However, that is not to say if there is a fear of a potential lost then you should change. If your lover really cares it will become obvious and there will be a discussion. It might just me that no change is required it is only in your head.
Two Young Peasant Women, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Free as can be so why would I escape?
Just look about do you see any walls
That may hinder the view of the landscape
Or limit travel to internal halls?
Inhale at will and get your fill of air.
Air spotlessly clean yet ever changing
Its bouquet as defined by the wind’s flair.
Live healthy with nature’s prearranging.
Caring for the land it will care for me.
Simple symbiotic relationship
That requires response to a special plea.
Treat this land as were part of a courtship.
Industrialization will soon come,
And all the land contracts considered dumb.
The painter of this pleasant piece of art is Camille Pissarro, completed in 1892 in a period when his eyes were failing him. He had joined the neo-impressionist started by Georges Seurat. You may not be familiar with the name but his painting which you can see here you probably are.
This is a very political painting but without knowledge of the times the two women could be talking about also anything. It appears the woman on the left is not contented while the one on the hanging on to the handle appears to be challenging her position. For the little I know about Pissarro I think he was only a lukewarm supporter of the neo-impressionist movement for he soon went back to his former style of painting and I got that sense in this painting.
Look at the appearance of the women on the left. Just the absence of head cover makes her look more like a factory worker than a farmer. While the one on the right surely looks more like a woman tending the crops. The speaker is the woman on the right.
Magic Circle, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Thy magic so powerful winds obey.
Those locked in every crypt thou may conjure.
Ouroboros that save, thou wear today.
All this as to make thee feel more secure.
Magic circle in the ground that thou trace,
May call the spirits to yield prophecy,
Will not this night for certain keep thou chase,
For thou heard the Ancient’s colloquy.
Tis I who has power ov’r heart that sits
Beneath thy breast. Thou needs to remember
The oath. This night we are joined it posits.
We shall make love ‘til the final ember.
Thou was given a choice made for thy life.
Power brings strife, now thou are to be wife.
John William Waterhouse is the master of the mystifying. Many of his painting will be the reverse of what I try to accomplish. He will take a poem and turn it into a painting, but here it is all Waterhouse. To build the poem I counted on three visuals. First the steam coming out of the cauldron was straight up signaling power. If you ever watched the vapor trail coming from a stack they are cone shaped and trail away given the wind no matter how slight. Then the circle. She is drawing the circle to protect herself. That means she fears someone with powers greater than hers. And finally ugly versus beauty. We can see the flower inside the circle but out it is all ugly. So what is desirable is inside the circle. In most mythology there is a quid pro quo. My guess it is due.
Repose, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Yesterday the song birds sang from their stage.
Much joy in their dance brought tear to my eye.
Today the fog rolls in. I’m in my cage.
Alone with my dark thoughts, ready to cry.
Yesterday the Bittersweet did challenge,
Now it rests calmly in the compost pile.
Today the worst of demons seek revenge,
The last thing they want from me is a smile.
Yesterday was so surrounded in blue,
Platycodon so many, now a weed.
Today I sit silent bidding ado
To the fog. There is little chance I’ll succeed.
Forlorn searched hard for yesterdays’ song bird,
Did find their sign in tree – do not disturb.
It appears to me that the days between dark poems I write are getting less and less while the time I spend receiving medical care is more and more. There is something wrong here. Laugh to myself when I saw this Renoir painting, Repose. When things go bad that is what I do. I sit. But it is not relaxing.
Sandy Toes and Salty Kisses, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
No word is said but both are listening
To the rolling of waves that kiss the shore.
The muted sun in the early morning
Cleared their minds and gave each mental vigor.
This was their quiet place, no problems solved,
Only energy of love was allowed.
So that greater feelings between evolved,
And love of each other would be avowed.
As the flight of an arrow walk was straight,
Being in the water and on the sand,
A sign of changing lives with unknown fate,
And that life may not go always as planned.
A quiet place is to share our wishes,
Get sandy toes and share salty kisses.
The painting is a Monet, it is one of many he did while visiting the small village in Normandy. A nice place for sandy toes and salty kisses.
This place is not inspire this poem. A friend was attending a beach wedding and posting a picture with the expression sand toes and salty kisses. I just put a little meat on the bone
Young Women of Sparta, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
While the three graces dance, dormant I lay.
Heart grows weary waiting for my lover.
Always true to me is what he will say,
And yet without reason I will suffer.
When I play a love song the tears begin
To fall. Of late is never a duet.
Tawdry laughter is much to my chagrin.
And in the end will it be my regret?
My lute lays silent ’til love signs do prove
Is I only who resides in his heart.
Be known when his clear eyes do my heart move,
And when sun is set nev’r are we apart.
On my lute do downy music we make.
Gently it moves keeping our love awake.
This is a Camille Corot painting and the model is Emma Dobigny who I mentioned in an earlier blog. I chose this painting for thee reasons. Corot was severely criticized for his mixed era painting. Here he has the three graces and a lonely lover in current fashions when the painting was done yet he beckons back a millennium at least. However, he does include symbolism accepted in that period, that being the the cittern or lute representative of external female genitalia. Finally Emma, little is know about her other than she died at the age of 74.
I can see why Corot put the Three Graces in the painting. They add support to what the painting means. Everything they represent is lacking in the foreground of the painting. It reminds me of the old Lesley Gore song, It’s my party………….. and I’ll cry if I want to