Widows’ weeds is what we wear
Stiflingly hot in midday air
Houses usurped by eldest sons
Post-husbands, post-menopause, we
Convene daily, really to see
That we still live, it’s hardly fun
But beneath each blackened shell
Bright colours of our glory days
Belie this ghastly latter phase
We dream of Heaven, live in Hell
Gossip our only consolation
The fauve follies of the young
Who’s deserving, who should be hung
Judgment brings but scant elation…
Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Melissa Lemay in Poetics, invites us to write an ekphrastic poem inspired by a selection of paintings by Georgia O’Keeffe…
Melissa also gave us a selection of art terms to incorporate into our poem and I chose just one fauve, the French word for “wild animal” that gave it’s name to the Fauvists who painted in very bright colours…
What an insightful ekphrastic poem, taking me into a wordgarden that felt familiar and appropriate to the image. I guess it’s close to what Georgia saw, too.
ps I think your single choice of “fauve” is just right, contrasting with the image and bringing aliveness and vital defiance to the shrouded figures.
Thanks, Kathy, I have come to like the sonnet form and the way it pushes you to reach for the right words…
I like the way you wove the colors in under the black
Thanks Eric, those colours stood out to me and demanded inclusion…