With creamy brush
I stroke your thigh,
point up the strong calf,
the bold curve of instep,
thrust of foreshortened knee.,
the bulge of muscle at your shoulder,
the broad spread of chest.
You recline against a black field,
a male Olympia.
Exotic flower blooming at your groin draws my eye.
I
draw the complex orchid beauty,
paint its not-purple, not-red, not-beige fine skin
and trace the subtle curves of that object of my desire,
with creamy brush.
******
Here's the poem that Donall wrote about the experience of being painted by me. Funny the way our perceptions differ! There was I concentrating hard on colour mixing, without a thought that he might be having impure thoughts about my bikini bottoms! I hoped that wearing the PLAIN side of the bikini bottoms would keep stimulus to a minimum but it was was too late by the time I saw this poem. Ah well, back to the drawing board.... Donall was never going to be a STILL life! Here's his version....
COMING UNDONE(For Janice)
Dressed only
in bikini bottoms
& an Ascot hat
you paint me
in the nude.
I try to keep
perfectly still
not to move a muscle
(keep my position)
but thinking of untying
the pretty little bow
of your bikini bottom
I come
undone
and you can
plainly see
I am pleased
(more than pleased)
to see you.
The hot sun
burning down upon the scene
painting my face
bright red
the colour of embarrassment
you
don't miss
a stroke
continue on
adding the final touches to me
deftly
swiftly
&
assuredly.
*******
Sitting for my(or reclining rather) portrait in which I float startlingly naked against a black backgorund(head thrown back in an agony of ecstasy or death or sleep or the little death) whilst a mysterious singularity twirls and vortexs beside me for no explainable reason whilst the truly delightfully delectablly delicious artist painted me in the nude whilst wearing only her Ascot hat(to protect her against the glare of the sun) and a pair of reversible bikini bottoms(light blue on one side...light blue with white polka dots on the other) with the cutest of 'pull pull me and I will completely fall open to reveal all my obviously hidden charms' bows.
The sun which came and went... came and went (and was hotter and more intense than we thought when it was there) painted my face a bright scarlet red.
That night I had to read at a friend's birthday bash as if I were a Native American to the great delight and amusement of the many.
Suffice it to say I was not(as Queen Victoria) ... put it...amused!
*******
Me...who am no oil painting....suddenly am an...oil painting. This I guess is my brush with fate! See how still I sleep upon your easel...a total eclipse of your art. love Donall Donall
I have to calm down now, this was too racy for an old man, but skillfull and beautifully done Love duncan X
You draw me to you and I come to you. 'Come to me with a thought...your thoughts I cleave to! ' I desire to be your desire...always...and. .forever. My orchid is in bloom and my heart flowers if you but brush against me...see...see...I blossom. Blossom! love Donall Donall
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Loved this Janice, Makes my heart leap to see two souls so deeply in love, and each the artist's foil. One with a brush...Both with words...Could have reflected my own experience....but that was long ago....The person I loved is gone. Sid.