Green muse Albert Maignan – La muse verte

09 Aug


Her alabaster flesh in teal and vert
flows like spirit like grass across the boards lacquered as her hair
electrifies the air full of siren-song. She vaguely
gleams viridian glances at you; arrogantly
glares darts sharp as lime into you
alone, from her olive-almond eyes.

Naked as a meadow she
ignores; and
ignites; and
springs and sways
light as a sea-mist, sapling-supple,
apple-round, fern-soft, mint-sweet; and
personifies fecundity, and
inspires and
enflames bottle green dreams to destroy you; and
leaves you:


Albert Maignan – La muse verte


Posted by on 9 August, 2011 in POEMS


4 responses to “Green muse Albert Maignan – La muse verte

  1. TheMsLvh

    9 August, 2011 at 11:00 am

    Absolutely loved this! Such a treat!

  2. John Stevens

    20 August, 2011 at 12:36 am

    This is gloriously sensuous language – the long sentence stretching down the page, the vowel sounds slipping from line to line – and all those variations on the colour green. I didn’t know this painting and needed the picture, which I then followed up on Wikipedia. What’s it all about, other than sex? (I loved that apple-round, fern-soft, mint-sweet!) You hint at the seductions of drink (absinthe – bottle-green dreams). Perhaps it is simply about the image in the painting. I wondered about Ireland (Erin). It doesn’t really matter – any or all of these. (I was a bit thrown by penguin, balsa and bamboo – but who cares). I relished especially the conclusion (leaves you in clover – brilliant!).

  3. piedhillprawns

    10 September, 2011 at 6:50 pm

    Yes. All of what John said. And the rhythm is like a pulsing through the whole piece JDub. Great work. I can hear your voice as I read it. Could you somehow steal the artwork to accompany a read at Speedpoets?

  4. Thomas Davis

    4 December, 2011 at 12:16 am

    This poem dapples as it flows like a stream into the sensuous sound and colors of a beautiful woman always moving, always enveloping. There are echoes of Gerald Manley Hopkins in some of the alliteration and rhythms, ironic as that might seem. The more I read your poetry the more the originality of the language fused to rhythms strikes me.


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