Saturday, 21 March 2015

Why You Shouldn't Marry Your Muse

“You know Renoir
painted with his prick?”
My loaded brush dripped as my
startled eye jerked from canvas
up past her artfully cocked hip
to her loaded eyes, seeing
Impatience on a Monument,
demanding I put my
prick to its proper purpose.

(Image used by kind permission of to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)