The Silk Face~

Dainty hands

wing beads diffuse the  morning dew

juxtaposed between the aroma and the mud

a  face is cut from a tree branch in the orchard of duperie d'individu

miroir de main

dipped

in dazzled water

ripping her waves to liquid ribbons

against an aquarium wrapped in cellophane

sunfish

giving birth through a thousand layered rainbow

the promise of a demitasse filled

with  bold days;

her paintbrush is made of rib bones

and horsehair

her skills

well

Michelangelo would eat her alive

and press a masterpiece from her inscribed pores

 

Dainty hands

caress silk

from the fault lines of her clay

a cat crouched in the black velvet line of her art

at the corners of a striking glance;

if looks could kill

she’d never look in a reflective surface again

 

Medusa

reduced her

a kabuki fan of a girl

in ripples women scorned

for the flat lines of a Shiseido counter

where grace

is amazing

and how sweet the bleeding sound

dripping from the fingertips

of airbrushed claws

 

Tip

and tap

the sap flows

the image grows

the silk face falls to the ground

speaking to  hands in coy Braille

“Oh my sold glam aglow, where for areth though go sees, go!”

 

“Mirror Mirror, silk and frail

hold the story of my face.”

 

 

At the end of the day

every woman has a face

no one

else

will ever see

 

 

copyright:2011vssmd/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Author's Note

duperie d'individu= self deceit
miroir de main=hand mirror
go see= the insane rush of model things through the streets to get to their appointments on time in hopes of being booked for a shoot~

Reviews

[Lachenille Papillion]

Culled from the imagery of style, in the dualities of dualities, from every word a multitude of meanings. Dainty alone deflowered so many layers of a woman, from child to softness to refined to elegance to grace, etc. I've read it aloud, in my head, in a whisper, and each time a visual display within my mind created a new, touching upon an abundance of soul states. Your staples of myth foundations are the music that plays eternally in the back drop of your every poetic line, and here laces the patterns together with invisible stitches. One woman, a million layers, self perceived, self deceived, culturally culled, civility sculpted, politically molded, patriarchal manipulation, karmic exploration. does she do it because she's taught to? does she do it because she wants to? is she who she is? who she wants to be? who they say she should be? Giving what is needed? Giving what is asked for? Giving what's expected of her? Giving before it can be taken? Giving to be rid of the weight of it all? Does she even show herself the image of her true face? so many questions, so many feelings, stirred here between black onyx meeting white light, and the answers lie forever in the shades of gray the melding of your words bare...
Only you~ and I mean those two words in the deepest of all human elements~ can decipher woman, as if the very blood within the vein that knows the intimacy of such life.
I've said it before, and I will always say it, you should be required reading for every young female that breathes~

[OT]

ohhh selene at her most surrealist!!!! how I love the descriptions and word plays - medusa reduced her - brilliant ha - throughout the wisdom wrapped in imagery and twists - "“Mirror Mirror, silk and frail
hold the story of my face.” - all brilliant of course - genius leaks from your pen!

[Marianne]

giving birth through a thousand layered rainbow

the promise of a demitasse filled

with bold days;

I could visualize those 3 lines for my own life, the multi-layered faces of my soul, heart and body not even known to myself...yet life surprises me with promises unfolding in the mirror of possible self deceit, yet forever taking me on a journey of self discovery, echoes of who I was created, who I want to be, suffering the misconceptions of a world blind with knowledge, fuelled by judgment.

Brilliant observations ~ BRAVO

[SpokenWord]

Oh and if the true face was seen then what would they be? Stunning write and I do love the picture too it is so fitting for this gem of truth twisted with salt. I will always enjoy your images as they dance for the eyes and tease the mind with every pen stroke. Superb~

[FireWoman]

Beauty is in the person that you really are when no one is watching, no lights, no cameras, no audience. It is your every day rituals and sacrifices that make you cut from another cloth. You guide the reader through a singular expressive thought, which then expands into an explosion of thoughts. Honestly, I think you'd scare the h*** out of Michelangelo he'd never keep up brush strokes with your pen!

[Cafe Reader]

You, my dear, are, in our opinion, the most significant poet of this century. How can you not be with poems such as this one. Your exploration of beauty and self worth and self perception, is an epic one.

[asdarkeyesclose]

'in dazzled water
ripping her waves to liquid ribbons
against an aquarium wrapped in cellophane'

The detail in this is astonishing, layers of images cascade across the page, some unexpected, always taking the reader to a new level- some reflective some abstract voice, compelling, moving the poetry forward. I like that the stanzas are so strong they can be read as seperate fragments with their own emotion almost as seperate poems. The theme of the face is subtle but weaves its way through the poem perfectly. Stunning!

[Reese38]

Selene, I could dissect the psychology of this poem, which one day I honestly believe will become a classic and required reading in classrooms where English literature is embraced. But I will simply tip my hat to you, and marvel at your consistent capacity to amaze us, your avid audience. Besides, Lachenille Papilion said it for all of us. Brilliant review for a brilliant poem!


Medusa

reduced her

a kabuki fan of a girl

in ripples women scorned

for the flat lines of a Shiseido counter

where grace

is amazing

and how sweet the bleeding sound

dripping from the fingertips

of airbrushed claws



Breathtaking.

[Robin]

this stanza -

"Dainty hands

caress silk

from the fault lines of her clay

a cat crouched in the black velvet line of her art

at the corners of a striking glance;

if looks could kill

she’d never look in a reflective surface again "


this poetic spins me through my own personal library of les femmes et leurs histoires

[.]

with you we catch a glimpse into a lucrative world of clothes horses...of course it's a mad world and the madness is perfect fodder for you to turn into a masterpiece of poetic verse bravo!

[Larry Dyson]

here is the part I love...
"Tip

and tap

the sap flows

the image grows

the silk face falls to the ground

speaking to hands in coy Braille

'Oh my sold glam aglow, where for areth though go sees, go!'

“Mirror Mirror, silk and frail

hold the story of my face.”