Here, Besides

Claude_Monet_-_Woman_with_a_Parasol_Facing_Left

Based on ‘Woman with a Parasol Facing Left’ by Claude Monet.

 

Here, Besides

In cleansing a pigment-encrusted brush,

who turns their nails to scrape the clay-colored sands

and play with the corals that sprout from a cup of clouded sea?

Where blue bonnets can be,

who dares to wash a wonder that is a window of time

gazing into a glass-eyed girl

or stands to part the ochre shades

that exhale into a robin wind?

-Amy Struthers

 

Diary Entry 36:

Based on Paul Delaroche’s ‘ ‘The Execution of Lady Jane Grey’.

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Started 1:16pm in the school cafeteria. Finished 9:09pm my dorm.

Stable

I imagine the Savior of the world,

when in seeing the hands of our lowly estate

position lambs such as Jane for the slaughter,

so mourns the suffering of a daughter

whose blood will be spilt upon a tilted altar

and served in a court without justice.

To she who bleats Luke

into a cave of wool-spun wolves,

anticipating release from the harbinger of husbandry,

may the echo of a goat named Guildford remind her the last laugh

does not end with a blade.

He who entered into the stable by such humble means

must now return to the cart that welcomed him,

dragging in the dirt behind

pungent tears

that blot the trails leading to and away from their perverted pens.

Now and again,

pigs trod over the selfsame hay as to sniff

the bed their snouts fail to detect once

held a head of iron cast.

-Amy Struthers

Johnsy

Based off J.E.H. MacDonald’s ‘The Tangled Garden’.

5.1.5

Johnsy

When paths aren’t all that tangled,
and dreams are spun and cast,
and bushels aren’t as fragrant
as the gardens we have passed,
will you still sing of Behrman,
when you rise to note what’s last?

When some boats aren’t that sturdy
and beaches boast as grand
and hands aren’t all that calloused
by the tilling of the land,
will you still write of playtime when you’ve grown too tired for sand?

-Amy Struthers

Diary Entry 24:

Started: 7:34pm. Finished: 7:52pm My dorm. Based on Cassius Marcellus Coolidge’s A Bachelor’s Dog.

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(Untitled)

Luxury-

that six-lettered lap dog

he sells with a smile

can only afford

a rolled-over belly.

Barking at the telly,

he spits a tooth-marked chimney to the side

and fills his lungs with smoking cash.

With beer on the burner,

Turner churns in the distance.

-A. Struthers

Diary Entry 19:

Based on La Rêverie by Renoir.

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Jeanne

Who would believe that dew drops could birth dimples
or that the hope of spring
could stir the lily that is
my daughter?
The water
to a forget-me-not field,
reaching towards the sun, with the gleam of its warmth in her eyes.
My surprise,
when in seasons I carried her smile-
her rose-kissed cheeks and leafing limbs,
bearing a name
that means ‘God is gracious’
and kissed my head with the favor of a love I learned.
Before Jeanne, I burned
in the garden where now, I raise rosalias.

-Amy Struthers

Sole

February 7th: Based on Van Gogh’s ‘A Pair of Wooden Shoes’.

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Sole

I asked of the cobbler,

“Is it possible to craft a soleless shoe?”

 

to which he replied,

“You’re a thing of possibility

as tied to a body that carries.

Who bleeds what is not red

and sleeps on that which is not his head?

You ask me if it is possible to craft a soleless shoe,

and I reply, you’ve yet to walk a mile in mine.

Like wine,

you must adjust to this skin.”

-Amy Struthers

Diary Entry 6:

the-star.jpg

Based on ‘L’Etoile’ by Edgar Degas.

Point

Is this how the swallow feels when, in being released from its cage,
it staggers onto a sunrised stage
and notes
the change of pace
that startles at the flurry of hands reminding her of forgetful wings?

The soul that sings
of gentility
despite the seasons
and rejoices
in the sensation of flight.
Why stop
when the very flutter of your step
reminds men that no bar can break you?

-Amy Struthers