Wednesday 19 September 2012

The Painted and the Painter

The Painted and the Painter

Put risk on the scales
Weighed against safety ....
This time
It 's not attractive.
Hawks and creeps surround me
Waiting for my weakness
To swoop like jackdaws
On my perceived 'jewels'.

What does he see this artist?
Unknit  my  forehead,
Remain bland, in control.
Relaxed, he will see
My status
My riches
My red gown,
Not my dilemma,
The monkey knot of possibilities.
My mask is in place
I'm still now, even smile
This man will see me not.

I will look at my outward self and see
What the world sees.
How futile my false face was
This man has glimpsed my soul.
He has shown my care,
Seen my uncertainty:
my hands betray me.
Artists should not be trusted
He has found my hidden skin
And wormed his way inside.
My contradictions are exposed.

He's begun to watch me
His eyes flickering from 'the pose'.
Seeing his portrait has disturbed,
His air has changed.
Have I been too bold?
My task is to flatter -
To paint rainbows on puddles
BUT butterflies are not worms.
I like this man
I don' t want lies to be his epitaph.
He's been gentle with me;
I'm a fly to his spider
But he's not tried
To trap me in his wishes,
He has given me freedom,
I'll give him, sincerity.

Inspired by Pontormo 's Portrait of Cosimo (Medici) the Elder

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