Monet's Monster

There's a monster in Monet's flowers tonight. I don't know how he got there. It changes this cheap decades-old poster of the painting so much, I may have to take it down. The water lilies still look like lilies, but the ferns and leaves hanging down from above seem threatening. What were fronds now appear as fingers clutching toward the viewer; the wind is blowing them, and the next time they swing close, they'll clutch something firm, I know. The impressionistic monster rises out of the water and fog, between two groupings of hanging leaves. It looks like a fat man with no nose and a cartoon mouth and a splotch where it's eye ought to be. What has happened? It's late at night, but I haven't been drinking. I haven't been a drinker or a smoker for years. It's just that late at night.

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Read A Short Poem Called THE SEDUCTION
in JUDY GARLAND BLUES,
My Persistent New Poetry Blog for Old & New Poems

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So far the new poetry blog above has had a variety of descriptors. It has been an “Idiotic”, a “Sexy”, and a “Wicked” New Poetry Blog. Eventually I might run out of words. Send any perceptive ones that you can think of that are descriptive and yet do not embarrass me too much in either direction and I’ll use it in a future smart-aleck introduction of a poem that probably doesn’t deserve such mistreatment.

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THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: "Once any system succeeds, it becomes its own worst enemy." -- Robert Altman

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