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Poetry
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| Magdalene | |
| By no1butClo | ||||||||
| 21 March 2007 | ||||||||
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I just realised how bad the formatting was the last tiem I published this so I'm doing it again =) thanks for the comments last time, much appreciated. She's not meant to BE magdalen, more a sort of vague representative...I was inspired by Pre-Raphaelite models and how different models for 'art' can be today. Not that coherent really is it? But such is life. And I'm still REALLY REALLY REALLY sorry about the tenses from about half way down - I will sort it out...honest... PS I don't really mind, but prefer 'Maudlen' pronounciation - college stylie She posed against a back- drop of Marylebone, gold domes and gothic town- houses carved upon a summer sky. On the bus home she, raised above the bobbing heads of rush-hour, felt her own body nestling in the grime of the city, and her deed, done not two hours since in that elevated studio. There; she was Muse in bare soft simplicity. Here; she is Magdalene, cowering at the feet of a society that will grant her neither mercy nor respect. Trying to outstare Venus as she's carried through waste land; clouds, trees, cranes break the gaze of the goddess but she looks on, willing that spark to heed her own desires. while the bus pulls her from her dreams beneath a muted sunset seamless there. She prefers the dark yet opaline light to that of the humming strips above her head. Desert-like, the immense sky suggests a depth, a feral richness at which her human heart can only wonder; perhaps there's forgiveness for this Magdalene after all.
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