Thursday, October 13, 2011

Final Act

by Ingrid Prohaska

His eyes were closed
he couldn't see her beauty
His ears were plugged
he couldn't hear her melody
"La Blanchisseuse"
Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec
His wings were clipped
he couldn't join her dreams
He hurt himself
and so he hurt her
he damned himself to a mediocre life

She opened her eyes
and had to see
that she filled her love in holey bags
She unplugged her ears
and had to hear
shallow rehearsed phrases
She healed her clipped wings
was ready to fly
but going to drown in her own tears

With her last entry
she had her exit to the right
silently she closed the door

Time for the final curtain

She let him in the spotlight
with the applause of the crowd

Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska


Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Scene at the Edge

by Ingrid Prohaska

"Still Life with a Dead Peacock", Jan Weenix
I stood at the edge quite a long time
and couldn't see an answer.

Finally I did
what should be done
I pushed my dream into the abyss.

I felt relieved
for a few moments
till emptiness replaced my dream.

"What for?" I said
"The heck with it!"

And did one step.

The right one
or just one too much.

Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska