MOMA - A Poem (From "Speaking to the Darkness")

Cezanne - Still Life with Apples

The sun
kindles the sky

I dodge the New
York suits
the anthill scramble
of lunchtime,

pay the speckled lady
in the white, wide lobby
to broach the mazes
of these boxed halls,

the din of school kids
directionless
    spins then falls,

Gauguin - Still Life with Three Puppies

up the aligned
escalators we go,
lovers and others,
like me, alone, stroll

at the top, Marina
Abramovic --
B&W films roll
suspended,

within a few steps
post-war tension

jiggling breasts
one feminine
face, aghast
     upended

mid-scream
     extended --

Picasso's Wives & Lovers

I retreat to spaces
less impeding --
the calm and familiar
floors beneath:

Still Life with Apples,
Cezanne,
stippled, deep landscapes,
Renoir,
plumes of color,
Matisse,
Still Life with Three Pupplies,
Gauguin,
     But
why does Picasso's
Wives and Lovers
sadden me so?

I leave burdened
by their loss
of color, their heavy
lined faces
that have yet
to grieve

Until she bids me
stay --

The Girl Behind 
a Mirror with her
bright gestured
wave

with so much to say

like Christina 
from her World*
reaching, reaching,
     Come back for me...

I cannot leave
     yet
with one still to see,
Roulin**,

a tourist
videotapes
him, spright,
proud,
always a
showman

his beard
blaring from
behind the glass

What a precocious
     fellow:
Always a flirt.


By Mary E. Lohan


*Christina's World - Wyeth
**Portrait of Joseph Roulin - Van Gogh

MOMA - Museum of Modern Art

MOMA - A Poem

MOMA

(From my book, "Speaking to the Darkness" (Poetry, 2013), now available via Amazon.

Note: I wrote this poem one hot, sunny afternoon after a visit to MOMA. It's fabulous to post this as a blog because I can link to all of the paintings which will make its meaning more clear. :-)

The sun
kindles the sky
I dodge the New
York suits

the anthill scramble

of lunch time
pay the speckled lady
in the white, wide lobby

to broach the mazes

of these boxed halls,
the din of school kids
directionless,
            spins then falls,

up the aligned

escalators we go,
lovers and others,
like me, alone,  stroll

at the top, Marina

Abramovic —                                               
B&W films roll
suspended,

within a few steps,

post-war tension
jiggling breasts,
one feminine
face, aghast
      upended
mid-scream,
      extended —                                                                                                                                                                                
I retreat to spaces
less impeding —
the calm and familiar 
floors beneath:

Still Life with Apples,                                                           

Cezanne,                                                        
stippled, deep landscapes,
Matisse,                                                         
Still Life with Three Puppies,
Gauguin                                                           

                  But
why does Picasso's
Wives & Lovers
sadden me so?                                                                                                                                                                      
I leave burdened
by their loss
of color, their heavy
lined faces
that have yet
to grieve

Until, she bids me

Stay —

the Girl Before

a Mirror with her     
bright gestured
wave

with so much to say

like Christina

from her World*                  
reaching, reaching,
              Come back for me..

I cannot leave

              yet

with one still to see,

— Roulin**,                

a tourist

videotapes
him,  proud,
bright, always
a showman
his beard blaring
from behind 
the glass

What a precocious

       fellow:
always a flirt.

 *Christina's World - Wyeth

**Portrait of Joseph Roulin - Van Gogh
Note: About MOMA