George Grosz’ Shoulder

December 10, 2008 at 6:51 pm | Posted in genre isn't dead yet but it should be, poetry, writing | 9 Comments
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Looking over, it has a certain plumpness of line.

Toodle doo he’s saying come here my dear.
His gaze slightly averted
as though indicating some other room
where other things are possible, ill-lit of course,
and whose mind does not drift to the illicit there?
There’s no shame in it, you were born to it,
come reap your just reward.

My feet are sore she thinks from all this dancing,
somewhere soft to sit perhaps,
beyond this constant rattle of sabres recline,
and my those medals shine.


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  1. Here is a link to the whole picture. And just for my notes, here is a link to the first time I looked over George Grosz’ shoulder in prose.

  2. A subtle hint, one word, changing the reader’s perception as a guided telescopic lens. I think the act is too overrated and overhyped; there are things we are made up of which do not take birth by it, though, and exploring that Tao can be much more delightful.

  3. But then again, who am I to pose questions to a famousblogpoetrevolutionary? 😉

  4. hmm, i like how she gets won over by the shiny medals. : )

  5. bravo maestro that is so cool and thanks for the l ink to the painting
    the first reed i didnt right away associate but straightaway sensed a poemthingy placed inside/out by fresh vision in a new way that happens as when you see a painting again and again over time and diffrent ‘language’ emerges-found myself inside the painting before seeing it, way cool
    so i noticed there is a kind of diffused shading around the edges of motifs in the space that makes the surface do a dance for the eyes perfectly in sync w/the story represented by the painter and brought around to meet with your poem really nice, thankyou

  6. Loved ill-lit the way you framed it, and then topped off with illicit, just perfect.

  7. A chaise longue? In purple velvet perhaps? What a perfect picture from a perfect picture leading us from the dance. Ill-lit, illicit… too gorgeous.

  8. The man who thinks himself first is the last one to know the dance…

    The officer and his medals gleam, but in the ill-light, in the illicit air of the floor, he’s just another sequined tin soldier, letting the metal be his voice.

  9. Illicit plumpness of line indeed.
    Yes, I know of that site, Philip. Caution this link leads to the very verge of erotica pornography including drawings by George Grosz and vintage hard core porn. Dont push it unless you are over 18 and not offended by actual sex.

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