Double portrait, Oskar Kokoschka (c. 1912)
She moves her body with hypnotic grace.
Euphonious words does she softly sing.
A smitten smile she wears upon her face.
My heart has been struck by scorpion sting.
Turning to me, offers her silken hand,
Kissed, looking into her ravenous eyes,
Of my every thought she took full command.
Her Siren’s song firmly sealed my demise.
As butter on a sunny window sill,
With her every carnal touch I did melt.
Thinking, it is me she shall surely kill.
Yet, better I have never before felt.
Many a friend claims that I besotted,
Was when I met her that this all started.
Alma and Oskar, Oskar Kokoschka (1913)
Alma and Oskar
There is not a tree with forbidden fruit,
Nor compelling compact we have to sign.
There will be no Satyr playing a flute,
Nor a reason for having to repine.
Just you and I in this our paradise.
Freely bending to the other’s desire,
Without thought of making a sacrifice,
While quenching a burning internal fire.
Stripped of all our frail human modesty,
We explore each other with boundless lust.
We bind together ever so brashly.
Such pleasure without being larcenist.
Our thirst for each other being so vast,
We ask these wondrous feelings always last.
The Tempest, Oskar Kokoschka (c.1914)
In the cruel bleak darkness of the night,
I engaged her in a loving embrace.
Hearing a deadly sound causing great fright,
My troubled tense heart did achingly race.
The wind howls with a mean temperament,
Devouring everything within its sight.
To ensnare us the wind would not relent,
Consuming our bodies with vicious spite.
Holding her tightly as we whirled around,
Dreading I may soon lose her to the wind.
She was motionless not making a sound,
While the eye of the tempest meanly grinned.
Awakening in a feverish sweat,
Not even hearing a single whisper.
Seeing a sight I shall never forget,
Alone in bed without a trace of her.