Far Away

Bosch, from 'Garden of Earthly Delights'

In silent motion
the birds form an orderly procession
each an integral part, yet together one
And I stare and wonder where they head
do they know or is it instinct that drives them 
far away, from me

Thoughts return
but less so now, for time creates   
distance and a gulf forms. Where waters flow
to bathe tired limbs and soothe wounds that once 
bleed deep but now healed, leaving traces
of fragmented memories 

As the birds soar

away into the horizon, wings in unison
they glide effortlessly, over a gulf too wide to cross

so I leave behind the caress of soft grass

and join them on their journey 

far away, with me

© the dishonest woman

The mistress's bite

He waits down below, a snake around his neck, while she takes to the high wire; brushing fingers along dry skin, smooth like silk yet warm, still it hisses and spits; meanwhile she ascends higher and higher, as the snake begins to wind itself around his chest, his waist, his hips; but he longs only for his lover, upon the high wire, and fails to notice the embrace; the snake feeling each beat of his heart, as she glides effortlessly around him; muscles taunt and strong, wrapped around the trapeze bar, he recalls every callous on her hands, now outstretched towards the ground; he tries to reach for her, but fails; when his jealous mistress delivers her deadly kiss, it is she who claims his final breath.

Ode to gym

la ballerina di Fernando Botero

Why do I delight in
every twinge.
I'm not sure it should ache,
not this much. 
But I don't mind.
It makes me feel... stronger
somehow

Interval training
burpees
crunches
the plank for 20
then balancing,
outstretched
over an inflated ball.

Ten minutes on the rower
turns into fifteen.
Calloused hands 
but I'm glowing.
Then cycling around 
Yosemite
'til my thighs burn.

Shoulder press, bicep 
curls, 8 to 15 reps. 
3 sets.
I can just manage 10.
12 if I push it.
My arms shake. 
Pathetic.

Pleasures gained
inflicting strain 
on my body.
Do I really have muscles
there
or there
or even there? 

© the dishonest woman

 

The Road to Little Sark

Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki, gift of the Auckland Society of Arts, 1931

This painting is titled The Road to Little Sark and was painted by Rhona Haszard in 1930. I discovered it in the local Sark magazine the day after I visited La Coupee, a narrow causeway that connects Sark with Little Sark. I was captivated as much be the artist herself as I was with the painting. La Coupee is spectacular, with dramatic cliff edges on each side of a narrow crossing with a picturesque beach at the bottom, if you're brave enough to dare the stairs downward. But the artist herself is just as fascinating. Rhona Haszard was born in New Zealand and studied at the Canterbury College of Art, later becoming known for her bohemian lifestyle. An affair with her art tutor, Leslie Greener (while married to another artist), caused scandal and eventually they moving to Europe - staying on Sark for a time where Greener's father owned a house (photograph below). 

Rhona and her second husband lived a colourful life, travelling around Europe and later living in Alexandria (also in the company of her first husband). But she suffered from chronic pain after falling while getting off a boat. Rhona died aged 30, the day after an art exhibition, falling from a tower in Alexandria (recorded as accidental but suicide suspected).  

Artist Rhona Haszard photographed with artworks at Victoria College, Alexandria, Egypt, in the late 1920s or early 1930s. (photograph from te ara website) 

"Haszard evolved a decorative, modernist style which became more experimental and sophisticated after she was exposed to modern European art movements in Paris"

from Auckland Art Gallery