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shyann raulerson Jul 2013
I heard faint noises downstairs, and I decided to investigate. I pulled on a pair of cut-off jeans and grabbed the old pump shotgun that had served me so well in Viet-Nam from under my bed and crept downstairs to check. My Ranger training came into play, and I moved soundlessly, down the stairs and into the living room. An air of vague shadowy figures were searching through the cabinet that housed my collection of antique silver. I announced my presence in a sudden and intimidating manner: I merely pumped the action of the shotgun, then immediately moved to the right so if anyone shot, he would shoot where I had been, not where I was now. That sound was a language that everyone understood, including the two figures before me. They froze, and were still motionless.

"Mr. Steve?" one of the figures quavered. "Please don't shoot!"

I recognized the voice as belonging to Lisa, the twenty-year-old daughter of my nearest neighbor. I didn't know who the other person was or who else may be in the house, so I kept the shotgun pointed in their direction and hit the light switch with my free hand. Immediately a car cranked up in my driveway, and tires squealing, raced out to the road and away. I looked at my midnight visitors. I recognized Lisa and Julie, who was a close friend of Lisa's and a frequent overnight visitor of hers. They were holding between them a laundry bag containing most of my silver collection. I lowered the muzzle of the cut down shotgun.

"You sure know how to get yourselves killed," I stated. "Mind telling me who was in the car? You don't want to take the rap all by yourselves."

"Please don't shoot! That was Mike, it was all his idea! He made us do it! He said he would put us out and make us walk home if we didn't do it! Are you going to call the Cops?"

Now I could understand why the girls tried to burglarize my home. It was a fifteen-mile walk home in pitch darkness on a moon-less night for the two frightened girls. It was just what a worthless **** like Mike would pull. Knowing what I did about Lisa's boyfriend, I knew what he probably needed the money for. He was nineteen; the only job he had ever had was selling drugs, and I don't mean at the pharmacy. He was a charmer though. Girls fell for his good looks and his charm, and would do anything for him, and he of course chose the best looking one of the bunch, Lisa. She never realized what a slime-ball he really was. The problem was that Lisa didn't have a father to threaten to put a bullet in Mike's behind, and her mother was just as deceived as she was.

"You broke into my house and attempted to steal my belongings. Why shouldn't I?" I said with false sternness. I wouldn't really turn them in, now that I knew the situation. I would give the girls a good scare, then a ride home. Maybe then Lisa would see through Mike's veneer.

"Because we'll do anything you want," Julie offered, speaking for the first time. "Anything at all!"

Julie stepped over and ran her hand up my leg, pausing to tweak the head of my ****, which was hanging out of the leg of my cutoffs. I hadn't bothered to pull on any underwear. Julie was almost as good looking as Lisa was. Both girls had fabulous bodies, large firm ****, and smooth well-rounded *****. Julie had a cute face, whereas Lisa was absolutely beautiful.

"Yes, anything you want to do!" Lisa agreed.

The girls weren't wanton *****, but scared out of their wits and taking the only way out that they could think of. Of course they weren't virgins. It hadn't occurred to me to take advantage of the girls like this, and I would have declined Julie's offer if she hadn't fooled with my **** like that. You see, I was developing an outrageous *******, and with my **** hanging down the leg of some fairly tight shorts, the situation was rapidly becoming painful and serious. I had to get those pants off fast! Also, I hadn't been laid in quite a while. I decided to lay my cards on the line.

"You kids know me. I never had any intention of calling the Cops. I was going to give you a scare to teach you a lesson, then drive you home. Does that mean the offer is withdrawn?"

The girls looked at each other and both breathed a sigh of relief, big smiles on their faces. Lisa winked at Julie. "Nope," Julie said, smiling, "It still stands. Lets go upstairs."

I escorted the girls to my bedroom, pressed the magazine block on the shotgun, pumped out the shell that was still in the chamber, then put it back in the magazine. I tossed it onto the dresser with a loud thump.

I turned around and both girls were stark naked. Lisa came over, dropped to her knees, and planted a wet kiss on the head of my painfully throbbing ****. My ******* became harder still. I had to get out of those cutoffs! Julie solved that problem. She unzipped and unbuttoned them and gently worked them down around my rock-hard ****, allowing it to spring up to freedom.

"Lets get on the bed first," I suggested, "Then we have fun."

"Lay down on your back," Lisa insisted. "Have we got something for you!"

I complied, and Lisa leaned over and put my **** in her hot mouth. Her tongue swirled over the head, ran up and down the shaft, and started over again. I looked over at Julie and she was watching avidly. Not having anything better to do with my hands, I reached between her legs and caressed her ****. Julie gasped with surprise, then spread her legs. Her **** was already hot and wet, so I slid my ******* in all the way, then started finger ******* her and massaging her **** with my thumb. Her **** hardened and grew. Julie had her eyes closed and was erotically tweaking her ***** *******. She was slowly lowering her body, deepening the ******* of my finger, and rocking her hips back and forth, intensifying the stroking of her ****. Julie's hot ***** juices ran down my hand while Lisa's mouth was still working on my throbbing ****.

I began to draw my hand from Julie's sopping wet ****, but she grabbed it and held it tightly to her crotch. I pulled my hand now, and she came with it. I grabbed her thigh and swung her leg over me, so she was now sitting on my chest. I pulled my finger from her hungry ****, grabbed her ***, and pulled her ****** right up to my face. As soon as I flicked her **** with the tip of my tongue, she went wild, ******* my face, filling my nostrils with the sweet aroma of her **** juices. I thought I would give her all the licking she could handle. I rammed my tongue into her ****-hole with all my might, then gently nibbled on her ****. Apparently she had a low threshold, as this was all she could stand.

"Oh God, I'm coming!" she screamed, ground her **** into my face one more time, quivered, then collapsed sideways onto the bed.

One down, one to go. I looked at Lisa, still ******* my **** for all she was worth. I was nearing the end of my endurance, and I still hadn't had my **** in any hot **** yet. I grabbed Lisa's shoulders and pulled her mouth from my ****. I turned her around and held her up, her blonde ***** triangle just inches over my waiting tool.

"Give it to her! Now!" Julie whispered.

Lisa's **** didn't look wet or ready to take anything in it yet, but my **** was ready to take some *****. Julie reached over and spread the lips to Lisa's still dry *****, and began tweaking her ****. Lisa gasped her surprise at her most private place being touched by another chick. Within seconds though, her **** and inner ***** lips began to swell, and her juices started flowing. I slowly lowered Lisa to my rod, admiring her glistening pinkness. Julie guided my throbbing rod into Lisa's wet love hole.

"Please, be careful! Ah-h-h-h! Go slow, I'm so tight!"

I lowered Lisa very carefully, for her hot ****-hole was indeed the tightest ***** I had ever felt. With that in mind, I fought the urge to slam her down on my eager ****. As soon as she was down, I grabbed her *** and began sliding her back and forth. Lisa bit her lip as a tear trickled down from one eye.

"Stop, Mr. Steve! It's hurting her!" Julie commanded. Then to Lisa, "You haven't done it much, have you?"

"Just once, with Mike, and he isn't this big. It hurt then, too!" Lisa sobbed. "I wanted so bad to do it with Mr. Steve because he's been so nice to me, and I was so scared when I saw how big he was. Oh, it hurts!"

"You'd better get up then." I reassured, "I don't want to do anything to you that you don't want me to do."

"I want to go on, really I do! But don't you have anything I could use to make it easier?"

"Yeah, any Vaseline, or KY jelly, or something like that?" Julie asked.

"I have some KY jelly in the bathroom." I answered.

Julie jumped up and padded into the bathroom. I watched her naked *** jiggle as she left.

"You're gonna have to get up." I told Lisa. I gently lifted her ***. She bit her lip again and moaned as my **** slowly withdrew from her tortured hole. With a pop from her *****, a shriek burst from her lips as my **** sprung from her nearly dry ****-hole. She knelt on the bed next to me, softly crying, clutching herself where it hurt. I realized that she had been wrong in pretending to be so eager. A more gentle approach was needed.

I reached over, pulled her to me, and kissed her lips passionately. She ****** once in surprise, then melted into my arms, returning my kiss, forgetting the pain in her ****. I ran my hand around to her firm **** and gently stroked her *******, feeling them harden under my touch. I pulled my mouth from hers and kissed the point of each hard ******. She moaned and gasped with each touch of my lips, but from pleasure this time, not from pain. While I had her aroused, I lightly traced circles on her tummy with my finger, each circle going lower and lower, until I finally reached the blonde **** of her ***** hair. Slowly, I reached down and cupped her ***** with my hand, being careful not to press too hard or insert my finger. I would know when she was ready for *******. She responded with a **** and a gasp. I pressed again, and she gasped again. I kissed each firm ****** one last time, then started kissing down her tummy to her love nest, which was now warming and starting to respond to my touch.

I spread her legs and gently ran the tip of my tongue the full length of her slit. When I reached the vicinity of her ****, she reacted as though she had been shocked. She arched her back, pressing her **** against my face. Maybe she was ready. I probed again with my tongue, harder this time, hard enough to separate her ****-lips and tickle her ****. She went mad again, jerking and twitching in response to the touch of my tongue, moaning and panting. Then I felt her **** harden, her inner lips swell and spread, and her delicious juices start to flow. Now she was definitely ready for more. I probed her ****-hole with my tongue, licked all the way up to her ****, swirled it around, bit it gently, and then probed her hole again. When I started doing all this, she went even wilder. She spread her legs, ****** and reared against my face, and pulled my head tight against her hot cooze.

"Oh-h-h-h-h, **** me," she moaned, "I can't stand it any more! I don't care if it does hurt! Please, please **** me!"

I put her throbbing **** between my lips and gave it one hard ****, drawing it completely into my mouth, and pulled my head back sharply, causing her **** to pop back. She screamed, ****** her hips at me, and grabbed her sweating *******.

When she had subsided, her legs still spread, I mounted her in the traditional position. I started to position my throbbing pole for a gentle entry, but Lisa released her **** and spread her ****-lips with one hand and guided my tool to her sopping wet ****-hole with the other. She was much wetter now than when Julie diddled her ****, wet enough to ****.

"Please do it now!" Lisa pleaded.

I began to insert my **** cautiously, and found that due to her juices, entry was no problem. Lisa groaned like a ****** as I slid into her hot wetness. When she had taken as much of my ten-inch tool as she could, I still wasn't all the way in. But she began pumping her hips, causing the swollen head of my **** to ram against the back of her *****. She was as deliciously tight as before, but she must have been stretching, for with just a few strokes, my ***** were slapping against her ***, and I was in to the hilt. My tenderness and foreplay had paid off.

"Oh-h-h-h, that's good!" she purred when I began pumping to meet her rhythm. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and was pumping as hard as I was. With each stroke, I would completely withdraw from her hot, tight wetness, then shove my eager tool back in to the hilt, never missing her voracious target, always sliding easily in, jamming against the back of her *****.

Her pumping increased in tempo, and I sped up to match. Each pump became harder and more frantic than the one before. Lisa's breathing became harder and faster. She was about to come, and I wanted to come with her. I raised her legs over my shoulders so that I had a better angle at the depths of her tight hole, and started ramming as hard as I could.

"Don't stop! I think I'm gonna come! Oh-h-h, its so good! Come in me! Oh, please, I want to feel your load in me!" Lisa screamed. She bucked and reared and screamed incoherently, then went limp. I continued to pump. In just a few seconds, she began to pump anew. For more times than I could count, she orgasmed.

Once I felt my ****** approaching, I gave her one last hard ram and drove my weapon in as far as I could. I came at this point, spurting her sweet, tender Steve **** full of my hot sticky come, like an erupting volcano. She gasped, trembled, and fell back to the bed. I pulled out my softening ****. Our ****** energies were spent for the moment.

I glanced down at the foot of the bed, and saw Julie, whom I had forgotten. She sat in the chair at the foot of the bed, her legs spread, working a coke bottle in and out of her *****. She had found the KY jelly, then found us ******* away. Feeling left out but excited by the ****** sight of her best friend getting a good *******, she slicked up the coke bottle and began using it as a *****.

I saw that Lisa also was seeing something she had never seen before, her best friend's ****, gaping open, a coke bottle almost disappearing inside it. "Look how far in she puts it! And see how big it is to go in her like that. How does she do it?" Lisa asked, amazed.

"Why don't you get a closer look," I suggested. "Ask her." Lisa crawled down to the foot of the bed and sat on the end, astounded, watching Julie *******.

Julie finally looked down, under heavy-lidded eyes and saw Lisa so close. "Why don't you do this for me?" Julie asked.

"How?" Lisa queried.

"Just do what I'm doing now," came Julie's reply. Lisa watched for a few seconds more, then pushed Julie's hand aside and grasped the slippery end of the bottle. "In and out, and twist it a little bit. Oh, yes-s-s, oh, yes-s-s. Do it good, oh, that's so good!" Julie purred.

My **** was hardening again at the sight of one female ******* another.

I had an idea. If Julie was as promiscuous as she seemed, she might not object to what I had in mind. While Lisa continued to work the bottle in Julie's stretched ****, I helped Julie out of the chair and down to the floor, her heaving **** on the floor, her *** up in the air. She stayed in the position, crooning wordlessly, **** juice dribbling down her thighs, Lisa still ******* her.

I picked up the tube of KY jelly that Julie had used, and liberally covered my ***** rod with it. Then I stood behind Julie, straddling Lisa.

"What are you going to do?" Lisa asked.

"Watch and see!" I responded. With that I grasped Julie's hips and aimed my **** at the delicate rosette of Julie's ***. Using my **** like a weapon, I suddenly shoved my tool in as far as I could. Julie let out a scream, tearing out fistfuls of carpet.

"Oh God, **** my ***! That hurts so good! **** me harder, give me all you've got! Make it hurt! Give me more of that bottle!"

"I'm ***-******* Julie!" I informed Lisa, who was now completely mind-blown.

I needed no invitation, and neither did Lisa. Both of us gave Julie all we could, Lisa with the bottle in Julie's ****, me with my **** far up Julie's clenching ***. Julie rocked back to take us both in, then forward, then back for more. I couldn't see
Theresa M Rose Oct 2018
A time in hand-cuffs;
… This was in 83’, I remember when because I left for Boston just shortly after Rose and I watched Thorn Birds together on the television in the basement; she allowed me to help her do a spring cleaning and ready everything for Easter Company. We cleared out the pantry closet upstairs putting new paper on all the shelves; we cleared out the kitchen-cabinets and fold and organized the all the linings in the hutch and best of all we enjoyed watching the mini-series together. I love spending my time with her; funny how I see so much of my relationship within the structure of this movies theme.  
We, Lisa, Denise and myself, we’re coming home after a grueling four week gig up at The famous Pussycat Lounge in Boston’s Combat Zone; I was the last on stage that night and after getting off I threw on an old-lady dusty over my costume  and began to rush about packing-up all my costumes. We run out to the van; and after tossing all of the bags and me into the back we start our long drive home;
My Agent, Lisa, with her broken leg in a cast, has out the road-map, her wig’s in her lap and she had a nylon *****’s on her head  she’s in the passenger seat; Headliner Denise (AKA The Luscious Lady double D’s Dynamite) the driver is dripping of the make-up remover on her face… she’s in nothing more but her bra and *******?! … Least I threw on my dusty. I’m on the floor in the back with a flashlight digging through the bags trying to see if I have all my new costumes I won at last night’s Show; we worked a big Jell-O Wrestling Tournament up in Cambridge... Hey, I win four costumes and I want to make sure they weren’t left behind! So, here I am all over the floor in the darkness with my little beam of light as a good hour and forty minutes go by…  I’m still going through the bags. Suddenly, I realize this intense quite?!  I pop up my head; there’s nothing out there; nothing but darkness, no highway, no streetlights just this long silent single narrow road we’re on. I climb up grabbing a hold of the bearskin spread pull myself onto the platform-bed back here and I look through the portholes on each side of the van to see the view… the view could only be described as Sod-Farms as far as the eyes could see; with this misty darkness looms above. It seems to gently illuminate over a kind of rippling sea of blackness stretching out from both sides of the van. I crawl back down onto the floor. I look forward out the front window as far as my eyes see… we’re on a road, small dots roll beneath the van but ahead nothing… our headlight lights diminish into blackness it seems darkness is gobbling up all things beyond us and we are on our way…
“Lisa?” Saying this hesitantly; …, couldn’t help myself there wasn’t a single set of vehicle lights anywhere and where we are being as dark as pitch?!
“Where are we…?”

Lisa turns in this growling tone,“ Someone did not want to go through Connecticut!”

Denise giggles,” Oh, come-on?!  I’ve been this way before… it’s faster taking Rhode Island! It’s an easier drive! ”

So, we go; yeah, down this road three gals’ in this converted van which looks like the red-light-district on wheels; driving somewhere in the middle of No-man’s Land, Rhode Island… At 2 O’clock in morning.

“Oh, ok.” I went back with my flashlight counting up and pairing off shoes.

All of a sudden out of darkness comes… in complete silence, flashing lights!
Denise begins popping brakes; bags dart about … as she sets the van to the side of the road.

Lisa, starts yelling at Nissie , “ You had to…; Had to take us through Rhode Island?!
Two, ******* Black //////////s and a little white cotton-ball lying over luggage in the back! You know… You know we’re all in jail tonight!!! You take us into the only northern state that thinks they’re south of the Mason Dixie “

While Lisa yells, (Huge bags Denise uses at high-end private parties falls from hooks and falls open contents toppling over me.)
Lisa turns to see how the van looks… Here I am; on my *** on the floor with boas dangling off me and an yard-long two header rubber buddy as ‘slap‘ hits down into my arms. There I am bellybutton high in whips, chains and the rest of Nissie’s extensive selection of ******* gear and every kind of Joy-toy which has ever brandished a battery and…

“Jesus!!!” Lisa yells, “Look at …! We look like a Traveling *******! Janice, don’t just sit there! Put that thing down…. Hide all that **** before that cop…”
Bang, bang, bang; suddenly, a cop’s metal flashlight s rapping and taps up the side of the van; the cop stands side of Denise’s door for what feels
He flickers his light into her face.

Lisa yells, “Open your window, Nessie!!!”

Remember… in nothing but a bra and *******!? As dainty as you please, “What’s wrong officer?”
She is saying this while the window handle’s giving her a hard time and she’s trying to wipe make-up Schmitz from her face.
“Why are you stopping us?”

Lisa leans …”Yeah! We’re just trying to get back to New York?!

The officer shines the light right into Lisa’s face then towards me in the back.
“Can I see your license and registration?”
And, I need the Id of everyone-else in this vehicle? Please.”
I call out, “I know mine is in one of these bags; this will take a minute please.

I am freaking and in a yelling whisper, “…, Oh Crap?”
Thinking, ‘There’s easily more than fifteen bags back here on the floor alone??? Half these… open and half empty all over?!
“Crap, crap, crap!” I start pulling at all the bags rummaging through everything.” Crap?!”

I hear the cop say, “Did you realize that you were speeding?”

Lisa and Nissie , “What ? Speeding? It’s the middle of the night?!  What the hell are you….”

‘Holy Hell; they’re fighting a policeman?! Their arguing with a cop about, what time of day it is… And, I can’t find my id???’ I’m pushing and shoving things into piles… All of a sudden…The side door flies open!
“Please; Step out of the vehicle.”
Like some startled meerkat my head pops up, eyes wide, from the piles surrounding me.
“What???” I crawl out.
Now; standing out by the side of the van with Lisa and Denise: And…,
I look down. My dusty snaps burst open.
Here we are! It’s the middle of the night and we’re on the side of the road;
Three women; One, the driver, standing barefoot in her everyday bra and *******; One, Talent- Agent, resting up on the van with crutches and cast on her leg to the upper thigh; And,… me…  I’m standing there in my freshly ripped dusty, revealing a pearly pink sequins bra-n- G string set, black fishnets and matching pearly-pink 5in. Stilettos.

The police-officer looks at me,” Did you find Id?”

“ Sir, no?!  No, not yet Sir. I was looking when you told me to get out … But?!”  I try to head-back into the van,” Let me find it…”

The cop grabs me by my arm and pulls me away from the door; he places me in hand-cuffs?!

“When you can find someone to bring you your Id we will release you to them.”

“ But sir…Please I have Id!? If you would just?!  Please, please allow me back in there?!  I’ll find it?! Please sir, please!”

Lisa and Denise, “Well, we have ours! Let us go!”
Lisa,” Keep her if you want but let us the hell out of here.”
Both of them; “We want to get back to the city!”

Lisa waves at me saying,” Stop by the office when you get back. I’ll store your stuff until you get yourself out of this…”

“Sir, please?! I have to get back home for my kids? I don’t have anybody able to come here and get me. I know, I have my I…”
I yell out, “I remember where it is!” homeward bound   “I know where it is!!!”
I begin pulling myself and the officer towards the front of van;” Lisa, Lisa you have it! Lisa has it! It is in there under her seat! My bag… My bag…?! It’s underneath her seat! Sir, look, Look it’s under there… Lisa! Remember, I gave you it before so you could get our pay from the owner at the Club?!  You said you’d put it there?!

“ Oh yeah; that’s right.” Lisa reaches under the seat and tugs my little bag free.
” Oops…; I forgot all about you giving this to me.”
“ Here you go her Id; could she now leave with us?”

The cop unclasped the cuffs and says, “I don’t want to have to see any of you here again; Drive carefully mind your speed.”
Back on the road and on our way home Lisa screams over and over; “Never in Rhode Island! Never again…!”
I sat there thinking, the two of them were going to leave me back there?  I’d be back there…. without a penny; no money; not even a way home.
Whelp, not the worst night of my life.



Please, I know this to be a short story  but could I ask for opinions?
This is a small segment of the book I've been working on.
Ryan P Kinney Dec 2015
The Phoenix
(To Love and Lose Part 2)
by Ryan Kinney

It started with a broken heart. Through the crack seeped liquid fire. It engulfed me, burning away all that I was. The flames shall purify me. Boil me down to my base components, and then rebuild me. From the ashes will rise a new entity.

Who am I?

Following my divorce I began an identity quest dubbed The Phoenix. It is my own personal trial by fire. Fire is the essence of life itself. As it destroys it also creates. I will create a new life from the remnants of my former, a persona not defined by another.

Chapter 1-The Quest

Depression and Suicide
“…my life before you was very chaotic and unstable. You were the stability I needed and the foundation on which I built my life.  I never doubted that you would always be there for me. You were my rock. Of all the people that had disappointed me you never let me down. Yet you did, You pulled the rug out from under me without warning and the foundation upon which I built my entire life crumbled…” –email correspondence to Lisa; Nov. 21, 2008

It took four months to undo ten years of my life. A debilitating depression overwhelmed me. I never saw anything in my life, but Lisa. What did I have left without her? What would I do? Darkness clouded my heart.

A rusty blade in my hand. A message in blood written on the broken mirror.
I lay in the tub, leaking crimson life. In my haze I barely make out the words.
What does my final message to the world say? I cannot remember why it hurt so much.
In a few minutes it won’t matter anymore. What the hell did I write?
I can only think of one thing that torments me enough to drive me to this darkness.
Trailing down in letters, clotting on the wall…
“I loved you.”

This revolving drama played on a loop in my mind. I was lost, a walking corpse. All I felt was cold hollowness.
“All that is left is emptiness, an empty house, an empty soul.”-journal excerpt; Oct. 6, 2008
I so badly just wanted the hurt to stop. In my tunnel vision existence I was oblivious to those whose hearts bled for mine. All my substance and passion was gone. Lisa took my heart with her and left nothing inside. Without her my existence seemed meaningless. The cloaked figure smiled, offering me the almost irresistible temptation of sweet release.
“Do I give in to the darkness? Let it consume me”-journal excerpt
Ultimately, though, there came a day when I awoke from the fog. I was living outside myself watching this unknown drone on a worthless trek. One phrase finally broke through the shell.
“What a waste!”
The Phoenix was born in that moment. The match was struck to light the way on the difficult road to recovery.
“The pieces of my soul are on the floor for everyone to trample on.”-journal excerpt; Oct. 6, 2008
I was in over my head. I needed help. A therapist helped at first, but the relationship quickly cheapened because I was essentially paying for a friendship. Antidepressants proved to work too well. I have a manic level of natural intensity. Lexapro ignited fireworks inside my brain. Both, however, gave me the nudge I needed to help myself. Eventually, I grew beyond the need for crutches. A previously unrecognized army of supporters each lent their kindling to the fires. One day at a time I battled my inner demons until I was ready to accept happiness again.
“You will be amazed on how much of the original Ryan is back. Why? Because I'm over my depression about change because something I feared more came to fruition.  I lost you.  I'm doing my best to survive from that, but my past fears now seems trivial and meaningless in comparison.”-email correspondence to Lisa; Sept. 8, 2009

Denial and Desperation
“Run, Run away Ryan. Open another book, turn on the TV, surf the Net. Delve into your fantasies and escape reality. It’s how you survived your childhood…”-journal excerpt; Oct. 2, 2008
The cracks in my facade were beginning to show. I shielded myself in delusions. I lied to myself to soften the full scope of Lisa’s betrayal. I more than lied. I was absolutely sure. I trusted her with my life. I trusted a lie. I was living a lie. I betrayed myself more than she ever did. The realizations came in shards, each piece punching holes in my heart.
I wallowed in self-pity and desolation.
I yearned so badly to feel some warmth, anybody’s warmth.

The New Girls
Upon Lisa’s departure I sought to quench my loneliness in the convenient woman around me. For a moment’s time, they took pity on me.
Rebound-I immediately sought solace in the arms of a good friend. She’s always shown me nothing but love and idolization. I was ashamed for disrespecting her and our friendship. I knew full well that our brief encounters were all that would ever be between us.
Crazy Chick-She was a brute of a woman, yet conversely, very maternal and comforting. She had a unique talent for forcefully ripping out my raw emotions, breaking through the masks. As she said, though, “I’m not Lisa.” Pathetically, that’s exactly what I wanted.
One Night Stand-ups-Several brief encounters fed my addiction for attention. Like a ****** with a needle, my appetite grew. Desperation was becoming my scarlet letter.
“…but it did seem that the thing we are most proud of and the thing we are most ashamed of are but the front and the back of the same coin. They torture and thrill all at once.”-Grotesque; Natsuo Kirino
I felt guilty and *****, yet loved for but an instant. These experiences were very cathartic. I had completely lost the ability to cry, feel pain, rage, or joy. They were the prefect drug, just so that I may feel again. Without these women to reopen the wounds, the numbness would have consumed me.
“Every angel has a little devil inside them.”-Manda; 2009
What attracted me to these women was mock chivalry. Each had their own “hard luck” story. So ingrained in me is the comic book ideal of heroism that I constantly seek to rescue the damsel in distress. Women will always be my kryptonite. However, as Crazy Chick put it, “ When is it time for you to be rescued?” The divine irony is, it was they who saved me.
It too, was not to last. A long period of isolation followed, as the women grew tired of babysitting me. Another lie to myself, a band-aid on a wound desperately needing stitches.

The Crush
Hers was the first light I allowed to pierce the darkness. She did more to heal me than any who said, “Yes.” Her secret, she said, “No.”
It has always been my curse to be eternally misunderstood and underestimated. I could see her scars bled the same as mine, although hers had begun to clot long ago. I am attracted to those who have a depth chiseled by adversity.
I identified with her. Her intelligence far exceeded my own, an Einstein in a circus. My eyes saw straight to her soul, seeing only the gorgeous woman she was on the inside. My friends would point out my eyes would sparkle whenever I spoke of her.
Yes, I loved her, but only in transition. We came from different worlds, but met as wounded soldiers on the battlefield. She was the catalyst to open my eyes. A sweet smile for my shredded soul.
“A worn beaten heart trapped in by bars.” From “Painless” by Tracy Reed
She held the key to my self-imposed imprisonment. My growing frustration with her opened the door for my transformation. For all her grace, all her amazing potential, she was wasting away in the same feeding trough as me.
“You can do better.”
Then it hit me…
“I can do better!”
I began to rebuild my empire. My never-queen rejected me…
I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The Emotional Spectrum
“Stuck in a prison of abstract ideas and overpowering emotions.”-Zach; mypsace blog
Shock
1) ‘I don’t love you anymore.”
2) Letter…”I can’t wait until my divorce is over!”
3) Ryan-“So I guess this means we’re getting a divorce.”
Lisa-“Well, yeah. You knew that.”
4) “Ryan, they’re together, and have been.”
5) “I’m moving out.”
6) “By the State of Ohio, I hereby grant this dissolution.”-Judge; Dec. 30, 2008

Six bullets to my heart, six separate, devastating phrases that brought about Armageddon. I gave her a decade of my meager existence, nearly half my life. She threw me away like garbage, and couldn’t have been happier.

Fear
As the gun smoke drifted, I clutched my breast. I was frozen in horror that I’d lose myself along with her. Fear, you see, was the beginning of the end for our marriage.
I never dealt well with change. When we bought our house, the combat that ensued left me crippled. I ultimately built myself into a comfort zone again. “I don’t know what I want to do” was always an excuse for me. I lay stagnant and complacent with no true purpose or direction.
It was Lisa that first took action. She sought to elevate us from the ranks of lower middle class into which we were born. I fought her, determined to lay docked in the doldrums. “Leave me alone in my bubble.” I made attempts, but with each failure became depressed. She became frustrated and took matters into her own hands. It is obvious she loved me then. She worked effortlessly to give us a better life.
I was blind to the truth and in time Lisa lost sight of her motives. She plodded on, mechanically, no longer sure of why. She drove herself to extreme exhaustion, afraid, that if she stopped, for even a moment, she’d realize it was all for naught. She lost faith in our combined, bright vision.
So, she did the only thing she knew how. She ran away, straight to another as miserable as her. She kept running, further and further, taking greater risks. All just to not have to feel her own hollowness.
She left and my phobia ended there. What followed was a newfound fear. “I don’t know what I want to do” became “What the hell do I do?” I was afraid I was doomed to be alone the rest of my life.

Sadness
“Are you ok?”
“We’re worried about you.”
“How are you, Ryan?”…

“MISERABLE!”-Ryan

I always speak the truth. I’ve never felt so surrounded and alone in all my life.

Anger
“Like koi in a ***** pond, you can see your rage barely hiding below the surface.”-Erin Kompik
The most intense rage fueled The Phoenix. I lashed out at everything. Everyone was burned. I was ******* and the world would pay. The spectacle burned so bright it threatened to eradicate all that I was.
“I can feel bitterness and anger coming. I am fighting for control over the anger”-journal excerpt; Oct. 1, 2008
“The seams in my heart leak nothing, but hostility.”-journal excerpt; Oct. 6, 2008
“I’ve become a monster. I once loved someone so hard I would die for her. Now all I can feel is scorn and hate. My heart is twisted and black. I fear I will become the bitter man my father is. I hate myself for being so.”-journal excerpt; Sept. 30, 2008
Who was I so angry with? For all the hurt I felt from Lisa, I was most angry at myself. How could I let this happen? How could I have been so blind? My blood boiled as I berated myself. The loss I suffered left my heart festering with hatred, as nothing but fire and volatility overtook it.
“The red light of rage is violent action without consideration of consequence. It is uncontrollable. So I will unleash it.”-Final Crisis, Rage of the Red Lanterns
Then, the root of another anger broke through the fury.
“I know that you may not see it now, but time really will heal these wounds.”-Michelle Kinney
She was right. I had absolved myself of my original rage. I had forgiven her. I could forgive myself. I couldn’t be held responsible for another’s irresponsibility. The anger dissipated into the smoke. It left behind a few flickers, but I’ll not extinguish them yet. I still have a use for that rage.
“Do not be afraid to expose the darkness. Only by bringing it to the light can it ever truly be resolved.”-audio journal excerpt; Aug. 16, 2009

Love and Happiness
During my marriage, hers was the only love I let myself feel. Then, she took it with her when she left. I felt scorned and unwanted, a refuse of human waste.
I was wrong. I am a man that seeks love as an end all for my existence. Lisa unlocked my caged heart. Over the next decade I cultivated relationships with countless individuals. There was more love in my life than I ever realized. They were there when she wasn’t. My parents sacrificed everything to give me a life and family they never had. Lisa’s family had become my permanent family. She divorced me. I did not divorce them. All my friends gave all they could. Even my harsh enemies stepped off the battlefield, for they understood the casualties of this war. All of them, a shining sea of compassion, poured their hearts into mine. Their light overcame the darkness. When I finally crawled out of the pit, they got me to my feet.
“For them, I must continue.”-Naoko Takeuchi
I had to be strong. I owed it to them to survive. They gave me their love to fill in my missing pieces. For all I had been given, I could never give up or give in.
“I am meant for greatness. I am meant for happiness, for joy, for me.”-Zach; myspace blog

Chapter 2-Evolution

Picking up the Pieces
“I need to be out there.
Living.
Looking for my own life…
I need to open my mouth.
I need to be heard.
I need to live.
You’re gone…
I’m not.”
-Goth Girl Rising; Barry Lyga.
It was time to rebuild that which had been broken. My life was fragmented chaos. I needed an order to the chaos, or more to my tastes, organized chaos; anarchy with purpose. I learned to become a master strategist. The civil war I waged on myself demanded a general.
STEP 1-Stabalize finances.
My pact with the devil to keep my beloved home required emptying the coffers completely. How delicious the irony that I wound up working the same long weeks as Lisa.  Hard work and sacrifice were absolute necessities if I was ever to afford to live again. It was Lisa that taught me that. The only difference, I must never lose sight of why. Money is not the reason for existence. I simply needed enough to achieve my goals.
“Money is nothing.  It is an imaginary concept.  Its only value is what we put into it.  While often a necessary evil to survive, it is not important.  The only possession of true value is time.”- The Most Valuable Possession; 2009
STEP 2-Tear down the Mausoleum.
My home had become a testament to a dead marriage. Lisa’s five day moving notice threw a grenade into my living space. It was disheveled and disorganized. It was no longer Ryan and Lisa’s. I had to reclaim it as my own. Out of respect for our past, I kept a few pieces of Lisa as a constant reminder. I will never forget where I’ve been.
“Your spirit helped build this place and it still flows through its walls.”-email correspondence to Lisa; Nov. 21, 2008
Physically putting my environment in order likewise put my mind into an order. As I rebuilt my home, it became the new foundation for my life. The Phoenix had a place to perch.
STEP 3-Know Happiness again.
“I seem to find that my great periods of change, evolution, and growth precede an ultimate betrayal from someone I’ve let close to my heart. Is survival mode the only way I can fuel my passion? Where do I find the love that ignites my will, yet does not drive me to complacency?”-audio journal; Aug 13, 2009
The answer, I needed to love myself again. I could not rely on someone else to complete me. I had to become independent, to be ok with being alone. I deserved to be happy, to be loved, above all, by myself.
This was going to be hard.

Breaking Codependency
Not having another physical body in the house left a void. Without another heartbeat close to mine, I stopped sleeping at night. My appetite was lost and I started shedding pounds. With my depression receding, I awoke to find I was living in a desolate wasteland. What would I do in this solitary confinement?
Utilizing survival skills my mother taught me, I used it. Ever the artist, I took the pieces and created an existence. Then I improved it, again and again. Loneliness is a disease that attacks only if you let it. I had to learn to accept myself, before I could expect anyone else to. I used the loneliness to redefine and rediscover myself. I would not rely on anyone to do for me. My honor and respect for my loved ones demanded I do for myself. The stifling quiet, the sleepless nights taught independence. The silence used to frustrate and anger me. Now, I use it for peaceful reflection and meditation. Th
Ryan P Kinney Dec 2015
To Love and Lose

Once upon a time…
There lived a shy little boy and a chatty little girl. Though the two lived really close they never knew each other. That was until one day, the girl entered high school. They met for the first time on the school bus. The boy eavesdropped on her and for the first time spoke to her. Although she was especially irritated, the boy responded. It was with those words that a lifelong love blossomed…
“You love me, you just don’t know it yet.”
Through the many trials and errors of high school life they grew together. And so, They lived happily ever after.

Or so I thought. Life is not the fairy tale I made it out to be. August 2008, my angel flew away. The woman I loved for ten years of my life lost faith in the power of love. More importantly she lost faith in me. What follows is my most honest recollection of the end of the era of Ryan and Lisa.

When I first met Lisa, I was little more than a persistent annoyance. Gradually, “like a fungus,” I grew on her. She was my first friend, whom I had met at 15. That little boy desperately yearned for love, and she accepted. We became inseparable throughout high school. She even graduated early to keep pace with me. Ultimately, due to my growing family dysfunction and her desire to widen the gap she felt between her parents we moved out on our own. Truly, we demanded our freedom to leave behind the stains of childhood.
Our apartment years were far from a nirvana. My darkness and her porcelain demeanor fought many battles. Moving beyond, we asked, “What next?” Purchasing a home seemed the obvious answer. Unfortunately our American dream was in the hands of Judas the Contractor. It did not go well and stress always marred our relationship.
All was not war, however. We loved as hard as we fought. Shortly after buying the home we were married. We were ever confident in our ability to weather any storm. It took 3 long years, but the house issues eventually settled.
With the tumultuous waves settled to a peaceful reflection Lisa was left with a void. “What will I do with the rest of my life?” Waitressing was not the solution. Then, one day, in the midst of her woeful exile, her answer walked in and sat down at her table.

“This is it!” “This is what I want to be!”
Her epiphany was a chatty RN munching assembly line breadsticks. The next piece was a friendly pair of regulars. Tom and Colleen were in their 50s and never had children. When they learned of Lisa’s mission they instantly adopted her. They constantly tipped outrageously to help fulfill her goals.

Meanwhile, I was stagnant. I was content with enjoying my home. I couldn’t understand why Lisa wouldn’t relax and enjoy what we built. I also had a crippling fear of change stemming from a vicious cycle of depression and guilt. Depression from a series of unsuccessful jobs. Guilt from inadequacy, feeling as though I couldn’t be the man Lisa deserved. Once Lisa had realized her ambition, she began pressuring me to utilize my vast potential. I was lost. The home and “happy” marriage was more than I ever had imagined. What more could there be?
Then, Colleen grew ill. She developed Alzheimer’s disease. Lisa had recently completed her STNA license certification as a mini trial for nursing. Lisa had embraced Tom and Colleen as surrogate parents, feeling a closeness to them she was unable to with hers. She became Colleen’s caregiver. Between Colleen, school, and serving, it meant 100 mph weeks and very little sleep. The stress and exhaustion weighed heavily on her.
A new civil war began. I tried relentlessly to get her to take her school and work slower. Slow was not in her vocabulary. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t share her vigor for a pursuit of my own. I was clueless and feared what new horrors change would bring. She misunderstood my concern for her welfare as denying her independence. In the war of hearts, I was quickly losing ground.

April 25th, 2008-Lisa’s 25th Birthday, her “Other Mother”, Colleen died. I didn’t realize it yet, but as I carried the casket my marriage was tethered to it. As the dirt went over, the fuse was lit, and the countdown began.
As the two who loved her most, Tom and Lisa fell into a deep depression. Both began drinking heavily…
“More and more just to get through the day, more and more just to feel okay.”
Lisa still worked 70 hrs weeks (now at a nursing home) as well as attend school full time. Often she didn’t come home. A gnawing sense of dread and paranoia washed over me. Not for a suspicion between them, but for her safety.
However, the world progressed as though nothing was amiss. Soon, it was nearing Lisa’s entry into the Nursing Program. I could not longer fight working a second job and begrudgingly accepted a position with her. Our proximity only increased the mounting tension. The cracks in our armor were beginning to show.
Finally the bomb went off and my world crumbled to pieces. The last week of July, following another fight I demanded to know the root issue. I received the answer I never wanted to hear…
“I don’t love you anymore.”
After a three day absence she returned home. However, that night I found an incomplete letter to Tom that finished, “I can’t wait until my divorce is over.” After pulling the arrow from my heart I immediately woke her. Without a word and in a panicked rush, she got in her car and drove out of my life.

The end was a series of saddening and maddening clichés…
“Couple gets married too young.”
“Woman chooses career over love.”
“Mourners seek solace in each others arms.”
“Man falls for wife’s nurse.”
“Woman pities sorrowful widow.”
“DIVORCE!”
Etc., ad nauseam.

Upon Lisa’s departure I feel into a black hole. Carelessness is not in my nature. I feel everything. For the first few weeks I was dead. Frequently, I contemplated finishing the act. Depression waxed and waned as the uncertainty of our finality wavered. I pleaded for help.
My journey taught me this…
When you’re sinking, in over your head, reaching out for someone to help, no one will come. You have to drop the arm seeking pity and use it to pull yourself from the muck. The climb out of the pit is a solitary journey. It’s only when you’re back on your feet that you notice all that stood around you. They are powerless to help, only watch as you cried and flailed, their hearts cut by the shards of yours. They are there to dust you off and stand you up, but never to pull you out. Only you must do that. My fear of change ended there. That which I feared most had come to pass. I survived; scarred, yet alive.

I describe my life as a learning process. Lisa’s life can best be described as a frenzied quest to prove something to no one. What does she have to prove? I always knew she was worthy of loving. She cannot trust anyone, therefore cannot trust herself. In the pursuit of her blind ambitions she sacrifices everything and everyone. When complete she feels lost and confused, until her next futile crusade. She is a soldier without a war. Her “self” is defined by her monochromatic goals. She puts so much of herself into them that there’s nothing left inside. She’s destroying herself from the inside out. Decay in a pretty wrapper.
When Lisa was a child she suffered an extremely traumatic experience. She never told her parents, the chasm between them seemingly insurmountable. It left her feeling sullied and insignificant. Since then, she has desperately tried to prove worth noticing. The child within her cries out, “Please pay attention to me. I need help.”
This inadequacy bled into our life. She is incapable of accepting death, instead diluting her sorrow with an obsession, fixation, or addiction. Her confidence in any decision is brittle at best. She views our marriage as universal shackles, keeping greatness just out of her reach.
However, I must also stand trial for my sins. On several occasions I did show her violence. No blacks eyes or broken bones, but that’s hardly a justification. Each morning I wake alone the weight of this guilt bares down on me. Lisa caught a glimpse of my dark side and it scared her away.

What lingers of my love for Lisa? I won’t hide that I harbor some hostility. Ultimately, though, I will forgive her. Beneath all the rage and guilt, denial and anxiety, I just want her to be happy. I owe her my life, now it’s time I gave hers back. I can never deny the light she inspired in me. She gave me a gift and moved on. As it is frequently said and not understood…
“If you truly love someone, set them free.”
What is true love, anyways? True love is giving all that you have and letting her leave with it. True love is letting go when all you want to do is hold on. It is not dismantling her dreams simply because you’re no longer part of them. Sadly, Love is all too often, a dead language.

As the dust settles, What remains of my life? Our love lies with Colleen now, a wonderful woman who had a huge impact on an impressive array of people. I still trust in the power of love. Now, I stand at a crossroads. For the last decade of my life my entire identity has been “Ryan and Lisa.” The question left is, without Lisa,…
“WHO AM I?”


TO BE CONTINUED…

Written August 2009

Please read "The Phoenix" for Part 2
Ryan P Kinney Dec 2015
The following is a very powerful dream I had the night of May 15th, 2009. I don’t often have dreams because my vivid imagination means I daydream a lot. I am seeking interpretations from anyone. Can you help me discover what it means…?

I am sitting in an auditorium. I am with my father, mother and brother, Shawn. The presenters are giving away tickets, one to a Cavs game, another to Cedar Point. I chose Cedar Point.
Instantly the environment changes. I am attending a huge social event party in a large multi-level office building. I am attending with 3 nameless, faceless friends. The party features 7 themed rooms. The first was an entry way similar to the one at my middle school. The second was a cross between the Cleveland Zoo (indoor parts) and an Indian bazaar market. There were tanks with lizards, salamanders, sharks, and sting rays. All had a price sticker on them. The third was a parlor with computers. I never discovered the other 4 rooms.
At this party, I knew Lisa was attending. I also knew she had a magical crystal that split her into 2 people. However, due to the 7 rooms she was accidentally split into 7. Each of the 7 Lisa’s was a different color (clothing), each representing a different personality characteristic.
The first Lisa I ran into was the black one in the entry way. When she saw me, she exclaimed, “Oh, ****!” and ran. It was shortly after that that I realized that she and the white one were evil. They were trying to **** me. I killed the white one. I do not remember how or why. Next I started running from the black one. I was sure that it had already killed my friends and I was next. She chased me into the parlor where I confronted her. When I turned around I realized this “Black Lisa” had turned into me. I killed it by slamming its head into a laptop screen.
I ran from the parlor into a stairwell. Here I encountered the red, purple, and yellow Lisa’s. These, I was sure were the good ones. I wanted to protect these 3 Lisa’s from the other 2 (colors unknown), that I was sure were trying to hurt us. I paid most attention to the red one. It was then, that my friends returned, coming down the hall with one slung over the shoulders of the other two. All three were alive and well.
Then I woke up…



Ryan’s Interpretation

The Dark Muse Dream

The following is a very powerful dream I had the night of May 15th, 2009. I don’t often have dreams because my vivid imagination means I daydream a lot. I am seeking interpretations from anyone. Can you help me discover what it means…?

I am sitting in an auditorium. The womb or an early family home.
I am with my father, mother and brother, Shawn. This scenario represents the beginning, my childhood and early family life before Lisa.  It also portrays quiet desperation.
The presenters are giving away tickets, one to a Cavs game, another to Cedar Point. Cedar Point is circumstantial.  I was going there later that month.
I chose Cedar Point.  The choice represents the choices I had to make in my life to go from child to man.
Instantly the environment changes. The 360 my life took after I met Lisa.
I am attending a huge social event party in a large multi-level office building.  Suddenly I had a social life and friends.  I was no longer an unknown and alone.  She brought me out of my shell.  The multi level building represents the complexity of my life with Lisa.
I am attending with 3 nameless, faceless friends. The party features 7 themed rooms. The first was an entry way similar to the one at my middle school. This was the familiar.
The second was a cross between the Cleveland Zoo (indoor parts) and an Indian bazaar market. This was the bizarre, strange, and new.  These first two rooms represented the outside world.
There were tanks with lizards, salamanders, sharks, and sting rays.   These creatures represent the untouchable, i.e. slimy.
All had a price sticker on them. They are for sale.  Nothing is sacred.
The third was a parlor with computers. The parlor represents my sanctuary, calming, and relaxing.  Yet the computer was one of many causes of my divorce.  To Lisa, me on the computer meant neglect.  The parlor also represented home with Lisa, hidden from the rest of the world.  This is where all the fighting and problems occurred.
I never discovered the other 4 rooms.  
At this party, I knew Lisa was attending. I also knew she had a magical crystal that split her into 2 people. Lisa was 2 completely different people.
However, due to the 7 rooms she was accidentally split into 7.  This represents the 7 deadly sins.
Each of the 7 Lisa’s was a different color (clothing), each representing a different personality characteristic. In my world, color represents emotion.
The first Lisa I ran into was the black one in the entry way. When she saw me, she exclaimed, “Oh, ****!” and ran. She is scared of me or ashamed.
It was shortly after that that I realized that she and the white one were evil.  White means my hidden anger towards Lisa while black is my guilt.
They were trying to **** me. Both my anger and guilt are killing me from the inside out.
I killed the white one. I do not remember how or why. Next I started running from the black one. I was sure that it had already killed my friends and I was next. The “Lisas” or more accurately, me destroyed all I had left (my friends).
She chased me into the parlor where I confronted her. When I turned around I realized this “Black Lisa” had turned into me. I was really running from and angry at myself.
I killed it by slamming its head into a laptop screen.  The act of slamming the head represents the violence I am guilty of and fear I am capable of.  Breaking the computer destroyed that which destroyed my happiness.
I ran from the parlor into a stairwell. The stairwell represents the path to my new life.
Here I encountered the red, purple, and yellow Lisa’s.   The good parts of Lisa I wanted to protect.
These, I was sure were the good ones. I wanted to protect these 3 Lisa’s from the other 2 (colors unknown), that I was sure were trying to hurt us.  I have an apprehension something else out there will hurt me again.
I paid most attention to the red one. Red means love.
It was then, that my friends returned, coming down the hall with one slung over the shoulders of the other two. Slung over the shoulders means a shoulder to lean on.
All three were alive and well. They were there, surprisingly, when I thought I was alone.
Then I woke up…
SøułSurvivør Nov 2014
Lisa thought she was the only
One at the park. Who else would
Be here at this hour?
She squinted to see...
An old lady was sitting out
Under the big oak tree.
Lisa was frightened at first!
A ghoul or a ghost...
Was it eating at her soul?!
She drew near, relieved to see
The old lady using her phone.
"Ma'am, what are you doing here
At this hour? Are you lost?
I can help you get home..."
The older woman regared her
Carefully. She took in her
Clothing and appearance, and her
Sincerity... then relaxed.
"Oh! Thanks my dear!" She said,
Relieved. "My son was to pick
Me up, but it looks like he is
Having car trouble. Your help
Home would be SO appreciated.
I don't live far. It's dangerous
Walking alone at night these days."
Lisa gladly confirmed.
"Sure, ma'am. I thought I was
The only one out here... haha..."
Her pretense was obvious. She'd
Never been to the park alone before.
She was only there because...
That's where he proposed to her.
That's where they'd danced together.
That's where they had carved their
Names in the big oak tree...
... where she would never spend
Her life with him... she would never
See him ever again...
"Thank you my dear. You know,
In this neighborhood some of the
Young men escort little old ladies
Across the street... even when they
Don't want to go..."
The elderly woman chuckled, but
Noticed that the young woman
Did not...
"Is there something wrong, my dear?" She asked gently.
Lisa stopped the car and started
Crying. She couldn't take it anymore.
Hiding behind pretense. The pain
In her heart brought her to her
Wit's end...
"He proposed to me there... under
That big oak tree... he died
So suddenly... he promised that
He would never leave me...!"
The lady looked down sadly.
Softly, slowly, she put her old
Gnarled hand on the girl's shoulder.
She recognized the need for a
Human's touch...
Lisa's tears became sobs of
Inconsolable grief.
"My dear child..."
She let Lisa cry. When the girl was
Ready she would tell her story.
Finally the tale of Jim unfolded.
Her fiance' he had died three months
Ago in an auto accident. Lisa
Couldn't "get over it". Nobody
Understood, Lisa said again and again. She and Jim had had an argument the day before his death.
"If only I had been more sensitive to his feelings!"
This lead to more angry outbursts
About nobody understanding...
... and how he had left her alone.
"Dear... my name is Emma." The elderly woman was soft. Soothing.
"I lost my husband two years ago
To cancer. I still grieve..."
Lisa snapped. "Now you're going to tell me that you know how I feel...
Well you don't! Nobody does! "
Emma looked at her with understanding and compassion.
"No, dear. Nobody does. Including me.  Your grief is your own. You must have loved him very much.
This much I do know. Those who love much grieve all the more..."
Lisa began to cry again in great gasping paroxyms of the soul...
Quietly she pulled out some Kleenex and handed them to the girls. Then
She pulled out a business card and wrote on the back of it...
"Here is my phone number. This is also the numberand address for a group. Other people who have lost loved ones. It is hosted by a woman who lost her family in WWII. She
Is renouned in her field. We talk about every aspect of this process. Physical. Emotional. Mental and Spiritual.
Dear, when you lose someone who you love deeply you go through a process. You don't get over it right away regardless of what "people" think. Please. This is important. Consider joining us, okay? "
Lisa looked at the card Emma offered a bit doubtfully but thoughtfully.
She took it with shaking fingers.
"I'll think about it," she said. "My
Name is Lisa by the way..."
Emma smiled warmly.
"Pleased to meet you, Lisa. Thank you for sharing your story with me.  I truly believe that it does help."
Lisa looked in Emma's kind eyes, and found herself smiling as well.
Maybe... just maybe... this lady could be a friend.
"Maybe I could pick you up for
These meetings..." Lisa said tentatively.
Emma beamed. "Call me," she said.
"I really could use a ride..."
Lisa felt a warmth come to her heart for the first time in a long time.

She put the car in gear and drove her new friend home.


(c) Erenn**
(c) Soulsurvivor
This was a wonderful experience. Erenn is a very talented poet and author and was a joy to work with.

We both hope that this write will
help someone. I learned a great deal myself. I hope that I won't have to use what I learned here for a long time. But I know eventually I will. We all have to know grief...
MBJ Pancras Sep 2015
An enigmatic smile she’s dressed with to chant mystery,
Poets and bards with their magical poesy tried the mystery,
Philosophers and thinkers broke their minds to unravel the secrecy,
Scientists and law makers built hypotheses and verdicts to read hers,
Painters and sculptors fatigued with their colours and clay,
Actors and directors enacted to unknot the thread of obscurity.
Odes and epics, long-written, attempted to sing Lisa’s Smile;
But reflections of their beloveds’ smile read in their verses,
Philosophies and thoughts expressed in huge volumes;
But less understood even the painter’s invention,
Theories and laws built around Science and Law;
But little is the outcome of their propositions sans the mystery,
Colours and clay played on mighty imaginative realms;
But Mona Lisa ne’er spoke of her mystery Smile.
Enactments on massive stages thrilled the collective audiences;
But Mona Lisa hid the mystery of her Smile.

I walked around the garden of poetry with fragrance of mystery,
I saw a poem in her distinctive beauty ruling my mind’s eye.
She smiled at my heart and in turn my heart smiled at her,
Her smile taught me a mystery and it took time to read it;
Yet there was a veil betwixt us, and I took my plume to write.
She took my heart unto her, and I romped in joy.
She’s been decked with melody and rhymes,
And the string of verses stretched beyond the horizon,
Where the mystery of Lisa’s Smile be found.
She took me with her beyond the horizon,
And I followed her with no utterance till our destination.
She laughed at me for my silence;
Yet she smiled unto me; but her smile looked unfathomable.

She smiled and smiled at me; yet she had no utterance for me;
She looked a little bit puzzling unto me, and I had no answer;
Yet her smile dwelled in me, and I invoked the Muse of Poetry.
“Thou art to be a silent lover, and her smile is the answer unto thee,
She’s the Mona Lisa; she can’t speak, but smile and smile.”
I lay on the soil of the kingdom of poetry, imbibing Lisa’s Smile,
I adorn her smile; I worship her smile; I revere her smile,
Let me not move away from the garden of poetry
Till Lisa’s Smile is translated unto me.

I waited and waited and I found the answer:
Lisa smiles and her smile is the love of silence.
My heart rests in silence that her love is felt within.
She uttered into me:”Speak not, but love with smile,
And that the mystery of my Smile and my Smile lasts.”

I know why Mona Lisa smiles.
She loves me with her silent Smile.
About Mona Lisa
MBJ Pancras Sep 2015
An enigmatic smile she’s dressed with to chant mystery,
Poets and bards with their magical poesy tried the mystery,
Philosophers and thinkers broke their minds to unravel the secrecy,
Scientists and law makers built hypotheses and verdicts to read hers,
Painters and sculptors fatigued with their colours and clay,
Actors and directors enacted to unknot the thread of obscurity.
Odes and epics, long-written, attempted to sing Lisa’s Smile;
But reflections of their beloveds’ smile read in their verses,
Philosophies and thoughts expressed in huge volumes;
But less understood even the painter’s invention,
Theories and laws built around Science and Law;
But little is the outcome of their propositions sans the mystery,
Colours and clay played on mighty imaginative realms;
But Mona Lisa ne’er spoke of her mystery Smile.
Enactments on massive stages thrilled the collective audiences;
But Mona Lisa hid the mystery of her Smile.

I walked around the garden of poetry with fragrance of mystery,
I saw a poem in her distinctive beauty ruling my mind’s eye.
She smiled at my heart and in turn my heart smiled at her,
Her smile taught me a mystery and it took time to read it;
Yet there was a veil betwixt us, and I took my plume to write.
She took my heart unto her, and I romped in joy.
She’s been decked with melody and rhymes,
And the string of verses stretched beyond the horizon,
Where the mystery of Lisa’s Smile be found.
She took me with her beyond the horizon,
And I followed her with no utterance till our destination.
She laughed at me for my silence;
Yet she smiled unto me; but her smile looked unfathomable.

She smiled and smiled at me; yet she had no utterance for me;
She looked a little bit puzzling unto me, and I had no answer;
Yet her smile dwelled in me, and I invoked the Muse of Poetry.
“Thou art to be a silent lover, and her smile is the answer unto thee,
She’s the Mona Lisa; she can’t speak, but smile and smile.”
I lay on the soil of the kingdom of poetry, imbibing Lisa’s Smile,
I adorn her smile; I worship her smile; I revere her smile,
Let me not move away from the garden of poetry
Till Lisa’s Smile is translated unto me.

I waited and waited and I found the answer:
Lisa smiles and her smile is the love of silence.
My heart rests in silence that her love is felt within.
She uttered into me:”Speak not, but love with smile,
And that the mystery of my Smile and my Smile lasts.”

I know why Mona Lisa smiles.
She loves me with her silent Smile.
Mona Lisa's Smile
RAJ NANDY Oct 2020
Friends, while composing the ‘Story of Italian Renaissance in Verse’, I read about the history of Mona Lisa, and had composed this poem on the 30th Dec 2010, posting it on various poetry
sites where it was liked. Hope you like it too, – Raj.

A TRIBUTE TO DA VINCI’S MONA LISA

BACKGROUND :
Unlike the legendary Helen of Troy, Mona Lisa’s
enigmatic smile,
Never launched a thousand ships as 'Dr. Faustus'
had said;
Yet she continues to inspire artists, poets, and
viewers alike till this day,
Even though five intervening centuries have passed
our way!
Leonardo Da Vinci who had left many of his paintings
incomplete;
Commenced painting 'Mona Lisa' in 1503 AD, taking
four long years to complete!
He had carried the portrait with him for sixteen
long years,
While seeking work in Milan, Rome, and during his
exile in France!
But after Leonardo's death in 1519, the portrait became
the possession of Francis the First, the French King.
But later, Louis the XIV had moved 'Mona Lisa' to his
Royal Palace at Versailles!
It had also adorned Napoleon’s bedroom, who hung
it over the mantelpiece for some time.
We learn from Art Historian George Varsi, that the
portrait belonged to one Lisa Gherardini.
She was the wife of a wealthy Florentine merchant,
Who had commissioned Leonardo to paint his
wife’s portrait.

AESTHETIC VALUE OF 'MONA LISA' :
Leonardo here creates an innovative painting style,
Using oil instead of tempera on poplar wood panel,
which was unique in his time!
The three quarter pose with a wide pyramidal base,
A ‘stumato’ blending of translucent colours with
light and shade ,
Creating depth, volume, and form, with a timeless
expression on Mona Lisa’s countenance!
Here, Leonardo’s passion and pre-occupation of a
life time came together,
As he waved his magic brush to create 'Mona Lisa'!
Lisa’s mystic smile with its play of light and shade,
Appears and disappear when viewed from different
sides,
Creating an optical illusion before the viewer's eyes!
Mona’s mystic smile and her gaze, creates a mixed
emotion on her countenance,
Mesmerizing the viewers as they stand before it to
admire and gaze!
Insurance Companies have declared that this portrait
is beyond Insurance, -
Since its value remains priceless!

SECURITY MEASURES ADOPTED :
In 1911, during broad daylight from Louvre in Paris,
The painting was stolen by an employee!
He hid it for two years in an attic, before smuggling
it to Florence in Italy;
And was apprehended trying to sell it to an art
dealer clandestinely!
Later in 1956, a mad man named Ugo Ungaza,
Threw a rock creating a patch near the left eye
of 'Mona Lisa'!
The Art Curators at Louvre now toil ceaselessly,
To preserve this fabulous painting for posterity!
Today the priceless 'Mona Lisa' is housed in a
dehumidified, air-conditioned container,
Protected in a triple bullet-proof glass chamber;
With six million tourists visiting her every year!
“It is the ultimate symbol of Human Civilization ”
  - exclaimed President Kennedy!
And with this I pay my tribute to Mona Lisa of
Leonardo da Vinci,
Thanks for reading patiently, from Raj Nandy of
New Delhi.
RAJ NANDY Apr 2016
Dear Poet Friends. Some of my earlier poems like this one, - are  available on 'Poetfreak.com'. But since that site is likely to shut down by the year end, I have decided to post some of my earlier poems on this friendly Poetry Site, to give them a fresh lease of life! Hope you like them.  Best wishes, -Raj, New Delhi.

              A TRIBUTE TO MONA LISA

BACKGROUND :
Unlike the legendary Helen of Troy her enigmatic
face never launched a thousand ships as 'Dr. Faustus'
says,
But she continues to inspire artists, poets, and
viewers alike till this day,
Even though five intervening centuries have passed
our way!
Leonardo da Vinci who had left many of his paintings
incomplete,
Commenced painting 'Mona Lisa' in 1503, taking four
long years to complete!
He had carried the portrait with him for sixteen
long years,
While seeking work in Milan, Rome, and into exile  
in France!
But after Leonardo's death in 1519, the portrait became
the possession of Francis the First, the French King .
But later, Louis the XIV had moved 'Mona Lisa' to his
Palace at Versailles!
It had also adorned Napoleon’s bedroom, who hung
it over the mantelpiece!
We learn from Art historian George Varsi, that the
portrait belonged to one Lisa Gherardini.
She was the wife of a wealthy Florentine merchant,
Who had commissioned Leonardo to paint his
wife’s portrait !

AESTHETIC VALUE OF 'MONA LISA' :
Leonardo here creates an innovative painting style,
Using oil instead of tempera on poplar wood panel, -
which was unique in his time!
The three quarter pose with a wide pyramidal base,
A ‘stumato’ blending of translucent colours with
light and shade ,
Creating depth, volume, and form, with a timeless
expression on Mona Lisa’s countenance !
Here, Leonardo’s passion and pre-occupation of a
life time come together,
As he waves his magic brush to create 'Mona Lisa' !
Lisa’s mystic smile with its play of light and shade,
Appears and disappear when viewed from different
sides,
Creating an optical illusion before the viewer's eyes!
Mona’s mystic smile and her gaze, creates a mixed
emotion on her countenance,
Mesmerizing the viewers as they stand and gaze!
Insurance Companies have declared that this portrait
is beyond Insurance, -
Since its value remains Priceless !

SECURITY MEASURES ADOPTED :
In 1911, during broad daylight from Louvre in Paris,
The painting was stolen by an employee!
He hid it for two years in an attic before smuggling
it to Florence in Italy;
And was apprehended trying to sell it to an art
dealer clandestinely!
Later in 1956, a mad man named Ugo Ungaza,
Threw a rock creating a patch near the left eye of
'Mona Lisa' !
The Art Curators at Louvre now toil ceaselessly,
To preserve this fabulous painting for posterity!
Today the priceless 'Mona Lisa' is housed in a
dehumidified, air-conditioned container,
Protected in a triple bullet-proof glass chamber;
With six million tourists visiting her every year!
“It is the ultimate symbol of Human Civilization ”
  - exclaimed President Kennedy !
And with this I pay my tribute to Leonardo da Vinci !
Thanks for reading patiently, from Raj Nandy of
New Delhi.
..........................................................­................................
While composing the Story of Italian Renaissance in Verse, I read about 'Mona Lisa', and had composed this verse on the 30 Dec 2010.
David Ehrgott Dec 2015
To the rarest of the women
That my eyes had to behold
An undercover secret
That's worth more than any gold
  
So priceless, you can't find her
(or paint colors 'round her soul)
On a black and white impression
'til she's staring back stone cold
  
Moan, Mona Lisa moan
I'll rock you back and forth 'til dawn
Just to make that tone
Moan, Mona Lisa moan
I will be your daddy
When your daddy's dead and gone
Moan, Mona Lisa moan
My arms will be your cradle
To comfort you from harm
Moan, Mona Lisa moan
Now that I've declared my love
No more to be alone
  
You're under an umbrella
And a sweater keeps you warm
But, more than any rain could fall
My tears, so filled with joy
  
I haven't any joker friends
or live beside a mall
No, all I have are eyes for you
on which they do adore
  
Moan, Mona Lisa moan
..I will rock you all night long
If you make that tone
Moan, Mona Lisa moan
No need to call the painter
When your daddy's home
Moan, Mona Lisa moan
Now that you're beside me
I will keep you safe from harm
Moan, Mona Lisa moan
Come and let me comfort you
Be inside my arms
And moan, Mona Lisa moan
Mona Lisa moan
Nae Nov 2013
“Nicole Brunelli, the first small town journalist receiving...” - no - “...the best journalist of Ludlow receiving the Pulitzer Prize! She is ambitious, determinated, fearless, unstoppable and this couldn’t be possible if she wasn’t like this otherwise she would never had revealed the macabre events of Bethlem Royal Hospital! Aaaaaaah”.
My name is Nicole Brunelli I’m 28 years old and I’m a journalist. My childhood wasn’t easy but what childhood was? My mom died when she gave me birth, and my dad... lo... my dad loved me too much until my 16 years old. By then I was starting college and I went to live with a friend of mine, we moved to  Glasgow and we graduated together. We had the time of our life and I ended up marrying him, a few years later we moved to a small town called Ludlow, we had our precious first child and I became an unknown journalist. But now everything changed, this is what I was meant to do.
I research about Bethlem Asylum and some archive stuff just doesn’t make sense, death dates, nonexistent patients, witnesses like one man who lived in the area of the hospital attested to the “cryings, screechings, roarings, brawlings, shaking of chains, swearings, frettings, and chaffings to be heard from the outside.” and he also said something about the managers of the facility that were known as Keepers, and were seemingly as frightening as they sound.  One such Keeper, Helkiah Crooke, a member of the medical department of the royal household, took over, ousting the former for being “unskillful in the practice of medicine.” It could be assumed that he would then handle the medical inattentions to the patients, but no records were ever made of any medical needs of the patients. He himself referred to the patients as “the poore” or “prisoners”. Something is not right I feel it and that is why I’m going there to scrutinize, and due to this I’m going to be the first and the best small town journalist receiving a Pulitzer.
My husband doesn’t really agree with this, but he knows how I am, he knows I’ll do everything for my Pulitzer, and to make him and our baby proud of me...
The time has come, this is it. My future is about to change, I am here now, after a bus ride to Bethlem that **** 3 hours and 45 minutes, I am here.
They refused to receive me! They don’t let me in! They don’t let me in and they don’t give me any information about their procedure on patients or anything! No, no, no, no. I gotta find another way to get in.  I have to. I gotta find another way in. I’ve got to do this! I don’t know what to do, I was so close, so ******* close! I can’t give up, I can’t! I’ve got to do this! This is what I was meant to do!

One night passed and I was still there waiting for them to let me in until the night watch, where a nurse thought I was one of them trying to run, or at least that was what she wanted me think. For instants I thought “This is my chance! This is it” until I realised that once I get in, the difficult part is to figure how to get out.
Three days passed and I realised what they were doing there...people coming in aisle F as sanes or insanes and two days later coming out as vegetables or dead... They were using patients, human beings, and most of them weren’t even crazy at least when they got there, and they were using them as cavies for their experiences.
Of course, who would believe in crazy people?
After the seventh day as a patient in the Asylum I had earned the right to a guided tour to aisle D... where they give you shock therapy. Apparently I’m a messy patient, I talk to much and I refused to take some pills, so they sent me to see Mr. Cleymoore, the asylum shrink so he could diagnose me; he said that I would never see my family again, that I would never see my husband or my baby again, he said he knew all about me, and he wanted me to sign myself in the asylum but I refused to do that...So they faked my death. In my plug diagnosis my name was no longer Nicole Brunelli, now I was Lisa Coventry and I was diagnosed with hidden schizophrenia and double personality disorder, caused by the fire that killed my family when I was 16 years old.
But how would they know all of this? My family, my past, my whole life?! It doesn’t make any sense!
Three months passed and I had a tour to aisle D every week. This place was crazy, it makes me think who are the insane people here. The way they treated people! The way the “disturbed” were chained up to walls and posts like dogs. They slept on beds of straw only as the water supply did not allow for washing of linens. The way the rooms had exposed windows, leaving the patients in damp conditions at the mercy of all weather and utter darkness at night. The hospital itself was actually noted as “a crazy carcass with no wall still vertical,” offering only leaking, caved in roofs, uneven floors and buckling walls.
Under Crooke’s Keeping, the residents were not only filthy and unclothed, but malnourished to the point of starvation using a “lowering diet,” of intentionally slim portions of plain food only twice a day. It was meant to deplete and purge the madness out of the victims, while helping to conserve money. 
 There were no fruit or vegetables to be given. Mostly bread, meat, oatmeal, butter, cheese and plenty of beer was the menu. While all of this is terrible, the true horror was in the moneymaking scheme that kept it running at all. Originally, the hospital was open to the public in hopes that food would be brought to the inmates from the community. Quickly, money was charged, creating a sideshow where the public was invited to watch patients displayed in cages, laugh at them as they banged their heads repeatedly on the walls, and even to poke them with sticks and throw things at them.
 Luckly I made a friend there, Mike Spencer was his name, he was the male nurse who used to do the night watches, he used to stay all night with me just talking and making promises; he knew I wasn’t crazy and that actualy helped me keeping me sane, at least for a while.
 Six months passed and I wasn’t the same.
They are coming, they are coming...they are coming for me...they are coming for Lisa.
 It’s cold, the cold tastes like blue. - Ahah - it tastes like blue! - Ahah...It’s cold... they are coming for Lisa, Lisa doesn’t want to go with them...
 She said that she’ll keep me safe, she said she would take care of Lisa. Lisa is hearing them, They are coming! Lisa doesn’t want to go, no, no, no, NO.
 She said they wouldn’t hurt me. YOU SAID THEY WOULDN’T HURT ME! They, gave me shocks again, they gave Lisa shocks.
 It’s not my fault. They know. They know. They must know why am I here if they don’t know? It’s not my fault she made me do it! She said it was the best thing! Now they can’t have him. Now he’s safe. My unborned baby is safe. They can’t have him now.
 She said she would protect me...She said she would protect Lisa. Shut the voices down! Shut the voices! She’s saying bad things. Lisa doesn’t like what she’s saying. She keeps telling me - “ You killed your mother when she gave you birth! it’s your fault that daddy loved you and used you to replace her! You know you liked when he used to play with you and love you. Everybody knows he used to did it what people didn’t knew was that you liked it! you wanted more! You know he only did it because you let him! And you certainly know who started the fire who killed him...” - SHUT UP! We need to shut the voices down! We need to shut the voices! shut...shut the voices...shut the... shut the voices down... shut the voices down... shut... shut the... shut the voices...
 She said Mike promised. She said Mike promised Lisa to take me out of here... Mike promised.
Two more months passed and I was completly insane due the shock therapy, but Mike kept his promise and he took me out of there, in the middle of the night he gave me a coat and he drove me to South Hampton seaport, he gave me the ticket and said that that was the further he could go. Along with the ticket he also gave me his lucky neckless and told me he bought me a ticket to Cuba so I could be free. I left a friend in that seaport a really good friend but I needed to go I couldn’t go back to that place.
 I had no lugagge, no shoes, nothing, just a coat, a neckless and a ticket to freedom.
 I had to ****** adapt to the situation and try to go unnoticed and not to attract to many attention, so I went to my cabine and stayed there until the end of the cruise for the maximum I could.
He stood there...
In shock..
Starring .....
crying . ....

He hasn’t looked away
Since the second he walked in..
while high on the acid
he was gonna do
with ....his best friend

The Same friend he now saw
Lying dead on the floor.

Laying limp against a wall,
That looked Like it was a canvas
For very beautiful and dark abstract art
.....painted with blood

they loved having deep Acid induced conversations
which he was looking forward to
But ...
before he could surprise her wit it,
He found her....Lisa.

Lisa.,
Who’s head now.....
Was mostly on the walls & floor
In fragments

Left reflecting imagery of horror
but ..
somehow ..
still ...
it was beautiful

hard to explain...
or maybe it was the acid ...
or... maybe It was beautiful....

and as the coroner and police arrive
still ...
his eyes Stay glued to the wall

Hypnotized by the blood stained
with pinks
Purples and reds.

chunks of her cranium spread,
Leaving subtle
traces of a peace of mind  ....
that’s not a piece of mind.

thats when Lisa’s mother
Slowly Walks over....

crying uncontrollably
still in shock

She asks:

“are you ok?
“Let’s go....come on...”

and though she said this to him....
Her body language ......
Like his.....
indicated ......
that she could not walk away
and now she also stares ......

he says  ...

“I’m a bit in shock I think .....

I can’t help feel guilt....
feeling maybe ...
I could have done .....more
She was my best friend...”

and as he says this
his cries finally Burst out
but .... still
he hasn’t talkin his eyes off the wall

her mom replied

“ she loved you so much ...”


and still ...
tbey stare.
both crying.

Then he says :

“Do you think ammonia will be Used
to clean this wall up??”

her mom was Puzzled by the question
and replied:

“I’m ... not sure ....why?”

he says

“Because ...
I think this will sound crazy ...
but...
the way her blood ,
And splattered....
It’s.....
it’s beautiful.....

And this caused them both
to cry even harder...
but also.....
breaking a smile for a split Second

as they both knew the comment ...
was obscure and out of place ....


But as they both still stare ...
Hypnotized by the wall.....
they both knew it Was said genuinely....

Then he says ....

“I really wish she could see this ...”

Her mom even more perplexed now
says:

“Why?”

still,
Not looking away


he says:

...because ...
she always said .....
she felt ugly ...

actually,
she said She was ugly ....

Her mom says :

...I know ...
the kids were relentless
when it came to teasing her

it got worse as a teen in school

I think ....
she heard it so much ....
That she believed it...
that’s why she’d always say it...
She would call herself ugly
more than her bullies did ...


He says :

“ I know ...
she said it so much to me
That after a while
I’d get sick of hearing it ...
And often told her it annoyed me

Her mom says ....

“ I know ...
I’d always tell her
true beauty
is when you’re beautiful on the inside...
That’s what is important....

( both Still starring)

he says :

“....ya...ironic isn’t it .....”

Her mom:

“What is?”

He says :

....that she wasn’t ugly at all
her beauty was like .....
Like ...

The Mona Lisa....
Off putting.....
esoteric....
but ....
beautiful...
and when this wall gets cleaned ...
it’ll be ...ammonia Lisa ...

she be exactly what she thought she wasn’t ....
beautiful.

Beautiful as art.....
Just like the “Mona Lisa”..
Ammonia lisa.

Like a painting so beautiful
Even her insides that should be
Hard to look at ....
are left like a symbolic piece of art
Leaving her to be what  she never
felt she was ....Beautiful....
like A Mona Lisa.....
ammonia Lisa ...

even harder now....they cried together....

almost wanting to laugh ....
still starring ....
starring at the beauty
that was painted in horror and pain..
like the most beautiful tragic art...

......Ammonia Lisa ....
He stood there...
Starring .....
Just ...
crying ...
and ....
Starring ....

He hasn’t looked away
Since the second he walked in
And found his best friend Lisa
dead ....Who’s head.....
Was mostly covering the wall
That was behind her.....

like an Erie painting
meant to be horrific..., but
somehow ....
still ...
it was....beautiful
....hard to explain...
But.....beautiful....

and as the police arrive
still his eyes....
They Stay glued to the wall
blood stained with reds,
chunks spread,
Leaving subtle
traces of pinks and Purples ....

then Lisa’s mother still crying
asks:

“are you ok?
“Let’s go....come on...
and though she said this to him....
Her body language ......
Like his.....
indicted ......
that she could not walk away
and now she also stares ......

he says  ...

“I’m a bit in shock I think .....
And feel guilt
from feeling maybe ...
I could have done .....more
Lisa was my best friend...”

and as he says this
his cries Burst out
and breaks harder .....
but ....
never talkin his eyes off the wall

her mom replied
“ she loved you so much ..”

and still
tbey stare , both crying.

Then he says :

“Do you think ammonia will be
Used to clean this up??”

Puzzled, her mom replies :

“I’m not sure ....why?”

he says;

“Because ...
I think this will sound crazy
but...
the way her blood ,
And all her insides splattered....
It’s.....
it’s beautiful.....

And this caused them both to cry even harder... ,
but also.....
Chuckle for a split Second
as they both knew the comment ...
was Seemingly out of place ....
But as they both still stare ...
Hypnotized by the wall.....
they both knew it
Was said genuinely....

Then he says ....
I really wish she could see this ...

Her mom even mow perplexed says:
“Why?”

and still,
Never looking away
he says:

...because ...
she always said .....
she felt ugly ...
said ....
She was ugly ....

Her mom says :
...I know ...
she was teased a lot in school
I think ....
I think she said it so much ....
That she believed it...

He says :
“ I know ...
she said it so much to me
That after a while
I’d get sick of hearing it ...
And often told her....

Her mom says ....

“ I know ...
you always said
Being beautiful on the inside
was  More important....

( Still starring)
he says :
“....ya...ironic isn’t it .....”

Her mom:
“What is?”

He says :

....that she wasn’t ugly at all
her beauty was like .....
Like ... Mona Lisa....
Off putting.....esoteric....
but .....beautiful...
and when they clean it ...
....it’ll be ammonia Lisa ...
left ......
To be.....
what she thought she wasn’t ....
beautiful ...
Beautiful as art.....

Like a painting so beautiful
Even her insides
that should be Hard to look at ....
are left like a symbolic piece of art
... the leaves her looking the way
she never felt she was ....
Beautiful....

like A Mona Lisa.....ammonia Lisa

even harder ....
......now they cried ,

almost wanting to laugh ....

still starring
starring at the beauty
that was painted in pain... art...
like A Mona Lisa....

......Ammonia Lisa ....
Ryan P Kinney Dec 2015
by Ryan P. Kinney

This is a dream I had the night of May 27, 2013.

The dream opens to me in a booth at a restaurant with an unknown faceless female friend. I begin to notice at other booths across me a single woman sitting in several different booths. I slowly begin to realize that all of these woman look like Lisa, although each unique and different. These very similar women were sitting by themselves, and freaking out people around them with how similar they looked. I instantly rationalize that they are all Lisa’s from alternate realties, different possibilities of what they could be.
I am talking with my friend as I notice these women. My friend gets up to go to the bathroom and I approach these Lisa’s, addressing them all at once. I ask them to join me at my table (there are 3 of them that I can identify, but my mind told me there were 3 more there, a total of 6). They all come to my booth without a word, as though they were expecting this. I bring them to my table and add a chair for my friend at the end. The friend never returns and despite my mind telling me there were 6 Lisa’s, there was only space for 3 of them. They sit down.
One Lisa is very similar to mine, although very thin and pale. Another Lisa is rather chubby. A third Lisa sits down a few minutes after the others. She returned in place of my former friend. She was dressed in cyber goth clothing with black contacts that made her pupils appear to be constricted solid black circles. I exclaimed, “Ooo, there’s a goth Lisa.”
I addressed the Lisa most like mine and began asking her questions to gauge how like mine she was, almost suspecting that she was. The only question I can remember was, “What kind of car do you drive?” She told me a story about her white car, but I cannot remember the details. I told her the story of my breakup with my Lisa. Somewhere in the conversation I grabbed the thin Lisa’s wrist and she asked me, “Do you want to break that wrist?” I asked, “Problems with an eating disorder?” She nodded.

The chair at the end of the booth remained empty.

I awoke…

Maybe I shouldn’t drink before bed.
RAJ NANDY Nov 2015
GREAT ARTISTS & THEIR IMMORTAL WORKS :
CONCLUDING ITALIAN RENAISSANCE IN
VERSE.  -  By Raj Nandy, New Delhi.

Dear Readers, continuing my Story of Western Art in Verse chronologically, I had covered an Introduction to the Italian Renaissance previously. That background story was necessary to appreciate Renaissance Art fully. Now, I cover the Art of that period in a summarized form, mentioning mainly the salient features to curb the length. The cream here lies in the 'Art of the High Renaissance Period'! Hope you like it. Thanks, - Raj.

                          INTRODUCTION
“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, &
  Poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”
                                                        – Leonardo Da Vinci
In the domain of Renaissance Art, we notice the
enduring influence of the Classical touch!
Ancient Greek statues and Roman architectures,
Inspired the Renaissance artists in their innovative
ventures!
The pervasive spirit of Humanism influenced
creation of life-like human forms;
Adding ****** expressions and depth, deviating
from the earlier stiff Medieval norms.
While religious subjects continued to get depicted
in three-dimensional Renaissance Art;
Portraits, **** figures, and secular subjects, also
began to appear during this great ‘Re-birth’!
The artists of the Early and High Renaissance Era
are many who deserve our adoration and artistic
due.
Yet for the sake of brevity, I mention only the
Great Masters, who are handful and few.

EARLY RENAISSANCE ARTISTS & THEIR ART

GITTO THE PIONEER:
During early 13th Century we find, Dante’s
contemporary Gitto di Bondone the Florentine,
Painting human figures in all its beauty and form
for the first time!
His masterwork being the 40 fresco cycle in the
Arena Chapel in Padua, depicting the life of the
****** and Christ, completed in 1305.
Giotto made the symbolic Medieval spiritual art
appear more natural and realistic,
By depicting human emotion, depth with an
artistic perspective!
Art Scholars consider him to be the trailblazer
inspiring the later painters of the Renaissance;
They also refer to Giorgio Vasari’s “Lives Of
The Eminent Artists,” - as their main source.
Giotto had dared to break the shackles of earlier
Medieval two-dimensional art style,
By drawing lines which head towards a certain
focal point behind;
Like an illusionary vanishing point in space,
- opening up a 3-D ‘window into space’!
This ‘window technique’ got adopted by the
later artists with grace.
(
Giorgio Vasari, a 16th Century painter, architect & Art
historian, was born in 1511 in Arezzy, a city under the
Florentine Republic, and painted during the High
Renaissance Period.)

VASARI’s book published in 1550 in Florence
was dedicated to Cosimo de Medici.
Forms an important document of Italian Art
History.
This valuable book covers a 250 year’s span.
Commencing with Cimabue the tutor of Giotto,
right up to Tizian, - better known as Titan!
Vasari also mentions four lesser known Female
Renaissance Artists; Sister Plantilla, Madonna
Lucrezia, Sofonista Anguissola, and Properzia
de Rossi;
And Rossi’s painting “Joseph and Potiphar’s
Wife”,
An impressive panel art which parallels the
unrequited love Rossi experienced in her own
life !
(
Joseph the elder son of Jacob, taken captive by Potiphar
the Captain of Pharaoh’s guard, was desired by Potiphar’s
wife, whose advances Joseph repulsed. Rossi’s painting
of 1520s inspired later artists to paint their own versions
of this same Old Testament Story.)

Next I briefly mention architects Brunelleschi
and Ghiberti, and the sculptor Donatello;
Not forgetting the painters like Masaccio,
Verrocchio and Botticelli;
Those Early Renaissance Artists are known to
us today thanks to the Art historian Giorgio
Vasari .

BRUNELLESCHI has been mentioned in Section
One of my Renaissance Story.
His 114 meter high dome of Florence Cathedral
created artistic history!
This dome was constructed without supporting
buttresses with a double egg shaped structure;
Stands out as an unique feat of Florentine
Architecture!
The dome is larger than St Paul’s in London,
the Capitol Building of Washington DC, and
also the St Peters in the Vatican City!

GILBERTI is remembered for his massive
15 feet high gilded bronze doors for the
Baptistery of Florence,
Containing twenty carved panels with themes
from the Old Testament.
Which took a quarter century to complete,
working at his own convenience.
His exquisite naturalistic carved figures in the
true spirit of the Renaissance won him a prize;
And his gilded doors were renamed by Michel
Angelo as ‘The Gates of Paradise’!
(
At the age of 23 yrs Lorenzo Ghiberti had won the
competition beating other Architects for craving the
doors of the Baptistery of Florence!)

DONATELLO’S full size bronze David was
commissioned by its patron Cosimo de’ Medici.
With its sensual contrapposto stance in the
classical Greek style with its torso bent slightly.
Is known as the first free standing **** statue
since the days of Classical Art history!
The Old Testament relates the story of David
the shepherd boy, who killed the giant Goliath
with a single sling shot;
Cutting off his head with Goliath’s own sword!
Thus saving the Israelites from Philistine’s wrath.
This unique statue inspired all later sculptors to
strive for similar artistic excellence;
Culminating in Michael Angelo’s **** statue of
David, known for its sculptured brilliance!

MASSACCIO (1401- 1428) joined Florentine
Artist’s Guild at the age of 21 years.
A talented artist who abandoned the old Gothic
Style, experimenting without fears!
Influenced by Giotto, he mastered the use of
perspective in art.
Introduced the vanishing point and the horizon
line, - while planning his artistic works.
In his paintings ‘The Expulsion from Eden’
and ‘The Temptation’,
He introduced the initial **** figures in Italian
Art without any inhibition!
Though up North in Flanders, Van Eyck the
painter had already made an artistic innovation,
By painting ‘Adam and Eve’ displaying their
****** in his artistic creation;
Thereby creating the first **** painting in Art
History!
But such figures greatly annoyed the Church,
Since nudes formed a part of pagan art!
So these Northern artists to pacify the Church
and pass its censorship,
Cleverly under a fig leaf cover made their art to
appear moralistic!
Van Eyck was also the innovator of oil-based paints,
Which later replaced the Medieval tempera, used to
paint angles and saints.

Masaccio’s fresco ‘The Tribute Money’ requires
here a special mention,
For his use of perspective with light and shade,
Where the blithe figure of the Roman tax collector
is artistically made.
Christ is painted with stern nobility, Peter in angry
majesty;
And every Apostle with individualized features,
attire, and pose;
With light coming from a single identifiable source!
“Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,
and unto God things that are God’s”, said Christ;
Narrated in Mathew chapter 22 verse 21, which
cannot be denied.
Unfortunately, Masaccio died at an early age of
27 years.
Said to have been killed by a jealous rival artist,
who had shed no tears!

BOTTICELLI the Florentine was born half a
century after the Dutch Van Eyck;
Remembered even to this day for his painting
the ‘Birth of Venus’, an icon of Art History
making him famous.
This painting depicts goddess Venus rising out
of the sea on a conch shell,
And the glorious path of female **** painting
commenced in Italy, - casting a spell!
His full scale **** Venus shattered the Medieval
taboo on ******.
With a subject shift from religious art to Classical
Mythology;
Removing the ‘fig-leaf cover’ over Art permanently!

I end this Early Period with VERROCCHIO, born
in Florence in fourteen hundred and thirty five.
A trained goldsmith proficient in the skills of both
painting and sculpture;
Who under the patronage of the Medici family
had thrived.
He had set up his workshop in Florence were he
trained Leonardo Da Vinci, Botticelli, and other
famous Renaissance artists alike!

FOUR CANONICAL PAINTING MODES OF
THE RENAISSANCE:
During the Renaissance the four canonical painting
modes we get to see;
Are Chiaroscuro, Sfumato, Cangiante and Unione.
‘Chiaroscuro’ comes from an Italian word meaning
‘light and dark’, a painting technique of Leonardo,
Creating a three dimensional dramatic effect to
steal the show.
Later also used with great excellence by Rubens
and the Dutch Rembrandt as we know.
‘Sfumato’ from Italian ‘sfumare’, meaning to tone
down or evaporate like a smoke;
As seen in Leonardo’s ‘Mona Lisa’ where the
colors blend seamlessly like smoke!
‘Cangiante’ means to ‘change’, where a painter
changed to a lighter or a darker hue, when the
original hue could not be made light enough;
As seen in the transformation from green to
yellow in Prophet Daniel’s robe,
On the ceiling of Sistine Chapel in Rome.
‘Unione’ followed the ‘sfumato’ quality, but
maintained vibrant colors as we get to see;
In Raphael’s ‘Alba Madonna’ in Washington’s
National Gallery.

ART OF HIGH RENAISSANCE ERA - THE
GOLDEN AGE.

“Where the spirit does not work with the
hand there is no art.”- Leonardo

With Giotto during the Trecento period of the
14th century,
Painting dominated sculpture in the artistic
endeavor of Italy.
During the 15th century the Quattrocento, with
Donetello and Giberti,
Sculpture certainly dominated painting as we get to
see!
But during the 16th century or the Cinquecento,
Painting again took the lead commencing with
the great Leonardo!
This Era was cut short by the death of Lorenzo the
Magnificent to less than half a century; (Died in 1493)
But gifted great masterpieces to the world enriching
the world of Art tremendously!
The Medieval ‘halo’ was now replaced by a fresh
naturalness;
And both Madonna and Christ acquired a more
human likeness!
Portrait paintings began to be commissioned by
many rich patrons.
While artists acquired both recognition and a status
of their own.
But the artistic focus during this Era had shifted from
Florence,  - to Venice and Rome!
In the Vatican City, Pope Julius-II was followed by
Pope Leo the Tenth,
He commissioned many works of art which are
still cherished and maintained!
Now cutting short my story let me mention the
famous Italian Renaissance Superstar Trio;
Leonardo, Raphael, and Michael Angelo.

LEONARDO DA VINCI was born in 1452 in
the village of Vinci near the City of Florence,
Was deprived of a formal education being born
illegitimate!
He was left-handed, and wrote from right to left!
He soon excelled his teacher Varrocchio, by
introduced oil based paints into Italy;
Whose translucent colors with his innovative
techniques, enhanced his painting artistically.
Sigmund Freud had said, “Leonardo was like a
man who awoke too early in the darkness while
others were all still asleep,” - he was awake!
Leonardo’s  historic ‘Note Book’ has sketches of a
battle tank, a flying machine, a parachute, and many
other anatomical and technical sketches and designs;
Reflecting the ever probing mind of this versatile
genius who was far ahead of his time!
His ‘Vituvian Man’, ‘The Last Supper’, and ‘Mona Lisa’,
Remain as his enduring works of art and more popular
than the Leaning Tower of Pisa!
Pen and ink sketch of the ‘Vitruvian Man’ with arms
and leg apart inside a square and a circle, also known
as the ‘Proportion of Man’;
Where his height correspondence to the length
of his outstretched hands;
Became symbolic of the true Renaissance spirit
of Man.
‘The Last Supper’ a 15ft by 29ft fresco work on
the refectory wall of Santa Maria, commissioned
by Duke of Milan Ludovic,
Is the most reproduced religious painting which
took three years to complete!
Leonardo searched the streets of Milan before
painting Judas’ face;
And individualized each figure with competence!
‘Mona Lisa’ with her enigmatic smile continues
to inspire artists, poets, and her viewers alike,
since its creation;
Which Leonardo took four years to complete
with utmost devotion.
Leonardo used oil on poplar wood panel, unique
during those days,
With ‘sfumato’ blending of translucent colors with
light and shade;
Creating depth, volume, and form, with a timeless
expression on Mona Lisa’s countenance!
Art Historian George Varasi says that it is the face
of one Lisa Gherardini,
Wife of a wealthy Florentine merchant of Italy.
Insurance Companies failed to make any estimation
of this portrait, declaring its value as priceless!
Today it remains housed inside an air-conditioned,
de-humidified chamber, within a triple bullet-proof
glass, in Louvre France.
“It is the ultimate symbol of human civilization”,
- exclaimed President Kennedy;
And with this I pay my humble tribute to our
Leonardo da Vinci!

MICHEL ANGELO BUONARROTI (1475-1564):
This Tuscan born sculptor, painter, architect, and
poet, was a versatile man,
Worthy to be called the archetype of the true
‘Renaissance Man’!
At the age of twelve was placed under the famous
painter Ghirlandio,
Where his inclination for sculpting began to show.
Under the liberal patronage of Lorenzo de Medici,
He developed his talent as a sculptor as we get
to see.
In the Medici Palace, he was struck by his rival
Torregiano on the nose with a mallet;
Disfiguring permanently his handsome face!
His statue of ‘Bacchus’ of 1497 and the very
beauty of the figure,
Earned him the commission for the ‘PIETA’ in
St Peter’s Basilica;
Where from a single piece of Carrara marble he
carved out the figure of ****** Mary grieving
over the dead body of Christ;
This iconic piece of sculpture which along with
his ‘David’ earned him the ‘Superstar rights’!

Michel Angelo’s **** ‘DAVID’ weighed 6.4 tons
and stood 17 feet in height;
Unlike the bronze David of Donatello, which
shows him victorious after the fight!
Michel’s David an epitome of strength and
youthful vigour with a Classical Greek touch;
Displayed an uncircumcised ***** which had
shocked the viewers very much!
But it was consistent with the Mannerism in Art,
in keeping with the Renaissance spirit as such!
David displays an attitude of placid calm with
his knitted eyebrows and sidelong glance;
With his left hand over the left shoulder
holding a sling,
Coolly surveys the giant Goliath before his
single sling shot fatally stings!
This iconic sculpture has a timeless appeal even
after 500 years, depicting the ‘Renaissance Man’
at his best;
Vigorous, healthy, beautiful, rational and fully
competent!
Finally we come to the Ceiling of the Sistine
Chapel of Rome,
Where Pope Julius-II’s persistence resulted in the
creation of world’s greatest single fresco that was
ever known!
Covering some 5000 square feet, took five years
to complete.
Special scaffoldings had to be erected for painting
scenes from ‘The Creation’ till the ‘Day of Judgment’
on a 20 meter’s high ceiling;
Where the Central portion had nine scenes from
the ‘Book of Genesis’,
With ‘Creation of Adam’ having an iconic significance!
Like Leonardo, Michel Angelo was left-handed and died
a bachelor - pursuing his art with devotion;
A man with caustic wit, proud reserve, and sublimity
of imagination!

RAFFAELLO SANZIO (1483-1520):
This last of the famous High Renaissance trio was
born in 1483 in Urbino,
Some eight years after Michel Angelo.
His Madonna series and decorative frescos
glorified the Library of Pope Julius the Second;
Who was impressed by his fresco ‘The School
of Athens’;
And commissioned Raphael to decorate his
Study in the Vatican.
Raphael painted this large fresco between 1510
and 1511, initially named as the ‘Knowledge of
Causes’,
But the 17th century guide books referred to it
as ‘The School of Athens’.
Here Plato and Aristotle are the central figures
surrounded by a host of ancient Greek scholars
and philosophers.
The bare footed Plato is seen pointing skywards,
In his left hand holds his book ‘Timaeus’;
His upward hand gesture indicating his ‘World
of Forms’ and transcendental ideas!
Aristotle is seen pointing downwards, his left
hand holds his famous book the ‘Ethics’;
His blue dress symbolizes water and earth
with an earthly fix.
The painting illustrates the historic continuance
of Platonic thoughts,
In keeping with the spirit of the Renaissance!
Raphael’s last masterpiece ‘Transfiguration’
depicts the resurrected Christ,
Flanked by prophets
Terry Collett Nov 2012
Mona sits on the school bus,
the noise of the other children
seems far away, she is indulging

in her thoughts. Lisa will get
on the bus soon. Her closeness
again. Sitting just here. Next to

me, Mona muses, patting the
seat next to her. The evening
before they had parted after

the tea. The bedroom romp
had filled her up. Each moment
seems to relive in her mind.

She looks out of the window,
passing countryside, cows in
fields, trees, birds. They had

almost drowned in the downpour
of rain from the woods to the
house the afternoon before.

Drenched to the skin. Get out
of those wet clothes, they had
been told by a parent. And they

did so. That started it all off.
Naked and drying. How had it
got that far? She thinks, watching

a ******* the other side of the
aisle of the bus talk about
watching such and such on TV.

She wonders how Lisa feels now.
The day after. After such things,
such sights, such deeds. The bus

draws to a stop. Others get on.
Lisa comes up the aisle and sits
beside her. She smiles and fiddles

with her school bag. Her fingers
nervous, like spiders on the run.
Sleep all right? Mona asks. Yes,

Lisa answers. Their eyes meet.
Mona feels a thump in her breast;
her heart seems to want to burst

open. Lisa leans closer. Dreamt of
you, she whispers. Did you? Mona
says, taking in Lisa lips moving, her

eyes, the nose. Lisa nods. Looks
around her. The bus moves on.
Mona wants to speak but her

mouth seems sealed. Lisa turns
again and looks at her. Seems
strange now seeing her clothed

after the nakedness and kissing
and holding. Lisa puts her hand
over Mona’s, squeezes, touches,

flesh on flesh. Mona breathes
in deeply. The touch, the feel
of her. She thinks of the last kiss

the night before. Not now of
course. Not with others about.
Not here. They seem in a different

world to the others. Adrift on
their own ship, wild seas. Waves
of passion inside. They look away

each to a different horizon. Love
locked. Hands touching, skin on
skin. Father O’Brien would call it sin.
TWO GIRLS IN 1960S IN EIRE REMEMBERING THEIR EVENING OF PASSION THE DAY BEFORE.
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
Art, a smile like the one
on the face of Mona Lisa.
Curved like the waxing moon
above the sea.
Light a flame before a face
yet to be seen.
What will it prevail,
will it show once for all
a slow tilt on the smiling lips
—a curve softly locks on
a rose from the sun,
or a shadow beneath the moon?
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Aŧül Apr 2019
Harry was the best friend of Henrietta.
Harry cared about Henrietta,
So much so that he loved her.
One day Harry prepared to propose her,
Before he did, Henrietta told him something.
She told him that she loves Henry,
However, Henry was seeing Lisa.

Harry was determined to get Henry for Henrietta.
Harry wanted happiness for Henrietta,
As if she's his daughter, his alter ego.
One day Harry charmed Lisa & lured her into a room,
And all this while, he made a video of them making love together.
Lisa was not aware of the video he made,
Harry beamed the video to Henry.

When Henry ditched Lisa,
He accused her being a cheater.
Yet with Henrietta he did not indulge,
And Lisa tried to woo him back.
Lisa apologized and felt it too,
Bad for Henrietta, Henry forgave Lisa.
This left Harry helpless & hapless.

Finally he loudly spoke up an ode to her,
Harry to Henrietta that be,
"Can't you tell that I love you,
Oh how much I love you?"
I slept with Lisa to make sure Henry,
The guy you want so badly,
Broke up with her.
She apologized and he accepted her back,
Their love is flexible and true.
Yet you don't see me seething with resentment and pain,
How I wish for you to see that I love you so much!"


Henrietta's eyes brimmed with tears,
Tears of realization and happiness.
Harry & Henrietta stared at each other,
In a moment that was so pregnant,
All the ambience was so stagnant.

Then both Harry and Henrietta lunged for dear life,
And they jumped towards each other to let the lips lock.
They kissed each other and caressed the partner's neck,
As if life is forever here to stay and they can play the leisurely fife.
Stupid Cupid Indulgence.
A short poetic romance young adult fiction work. Do tell in comments what part of this story you like the most.

My HP Poem #1740
©Atul Kaushal
Tanzim Ahmed Jan 2019
In 1852, an artist named Luc Maspero threw himself from the fourth floor of a Parisian hotel
Leaving a suicide note that read: "for years I have grappled desperately with her smile,
I prefer to die."

Then in 1910, one enamored fan
came before her solely to shoot himself
As he looked upon her Napolean crushed ******* her.
She has broken a lot of heart
Men have died loving her.

Last week Mona Lisa walked out of her frame
And out of the Louvre Museum
Straight to the terrace of the tallest builiding of Paris and cried.

The world is smudged with oil now
Paris streets smell of smoke and warm colours.
My mother knows nothing about mona lisa
And neither does my father.

But he steals some of the colour from mona lisa's cheeks
And put them across my mother's everytime he pronounces her name
Like it is the only word his tongue has ever known,
Like it is the only colour his eyes have ever seen.

Somedays, he steals stars from Gogh's starry night.
"A good lover is a good thief" he says.

I wonder probably the Italian man who stole Mona Lisa wanted to put some colour across his wife's cheeks
Or he just wanted to steal that smile.

Maybe his wife had left him
Or yellowed
Or died

Maybe his wife was a bad lover
And he, a good thief.

Maybe his wife was a good lover
And he, a bad thief
Who went gaga over Lisa.

What I want to say is,
This poem is standing on the fourth floor,
Of the same Parisian hotel,
With a suicide note in one hand
Smuged with oil and warm colours, And pistol in other.

This poem is the terrace of the tallest building of Paris.
This poem is Mona Lisa crying at 3am uncolouring herself while trying to forget French
And a thief trying to rob the colours and stars,
And a half asleep world smudged with oil and smoke

Which is to say,
This poem is a poor attempt to be everything,
But anything about you
Wondering what would be the first sentence of Mona Lisa if she ever walks out

Would it be,
"Where is Vinci?"
Or, "I wish
To run away?"
Nameless Feb 2016
Mona Lisa,
I'd pay
more to see you smile.
I'd love you more
than he ever did.

And
You're not stuck
in the barrier
of your
canvas.
Go on
And
take my hand.

Mona Lisa,
I'd pay
more to see you smile.
I'd smitten you
with color,
Just to see you smile.
...

...
Mona Lisa
Deity Feb 2014
Too beautiful to be ashes.  

I felt jealous. I placed a flower in your casket and wept.

You had the courage to finish and they say those who do so are weak. But they don't understand how it feels to have a rope around your neck and a chair under your feet.

I admire you, but I wish you wouldn't have done it. But I understand how you needed to end your pain because it multiples the more you covet.

Your smile was a painting but I saw the pain in your eyes. And it's okay, Mona Lisa...I understand the pain you've disguised.

I know you didn't mean for us to hurt you just needed to end yours, but now  I'll always be afraid of what's behind silent doors...Mona Lisa.

No words. "Hang in there."
No words. Hanging there...

...Mona Lisa.

If I'm unlucky enough, I'll be lucky enough to see you in a little while.

Until then...smile, Mona Lisa.

Smile.
Lyn Senz Nov 2013
So look at, look at how she lays
her eyes so soft, like quiet days
and how I wish, she was mine
but we've run out of time..

oh Lisa, you've given up on dreams
and fell in love with rocks
but don't give up on me
oh Lisa, I've waited for so long
now I can't believe your slippin away
my love for you is so.. oh Lisa

how can I make it right
when nothing will ever do
until you tell me that your mine
my dreams just won't come true
and I have a dozen dreams
only want you here by me
don't leave


©1999 Lyn
Hi. the original name has been changed.
she truly was not worth writing a poem
about.
Tanzim Ahmed Jan 2019
In 1852, an artist named Luc Maspero threw himself from the fourth floor of a Parisian hotel
Leaving a suicide note that read: "for years I have grappled desperately with her smile,
I prefer to die."

Then in 1910, one enamored fan
came before her solely to shoot himself
As he looked upon her Napolean crushed ******* her.
She has broken a lot of heart
Men have died loving her.

Last week Mona Lisa walked out of her frame
And out of the Louvre Museum
Straight to the terrace of the tallest builiding of Paris and cried.

The world is smudged with oil now
Paris streets smell of smoke and warm colours.
My mother knows nothing about mona lisa
And neither does my father.

But he steals some of the colour from mona lisa's cheeks
And put them across my mother's everytime he pronounces her name
Like it is the only word his tongue has ever known,
Like it is the only colour his eyes have ever seen.

Somedays, he steals stars from Gogh's starry night.
"A good lover is a good thief" he says.

I wonder probably the Italian man who stole Mona Lisa wanted to put some colour across his wife's cheeks
Or he just wanted to steal that smile.

Maybe his wife had left him
Or yellowed
Or died

Maybe his wife was a bad lover
And he, a good thief.

Maybe his wife was a good lover
And he, a bad thief
Who went gaga over Lisa.

What I want to say is,
This poem is standing on the fourth floor,
Of the same Parisian hotel,
With a suicide note in one hand
Smuged with oil and warm colours, And pistol in other.

This poem is the terrace of the tallest building of Paris.
This poem is Mona Lisa crying at 3am uncolouring herself while trying to forget French
And a thief trying to rob the colours and stars,
And a half asleep world smudged with oil and smoke

Which is to say,
This poem is a poor attempt to be everything,
But anything about you
Wondering what would be the first sentence of Mona Lisa if she ever walks out

Would it be,
"Where is Vinci?"
Or, "I wish
To run away?"
Craig Harrison Jun 2014
Wind blowing, leaves falling
In the woods I am walking
Birds chirping, squirrels digging
Not stopping my mind from wandering

Fashion walks, beach resorts
Nice weather, beautiful people
City breaks, country retreats
Exotic animals, spiders and snakes

Mona Lisa, The last supper
Beautiful art, beautiful mind
Excellent artists are hard to find

Beautiful things everywhere
open your eyes, happiness is right their
sweet ridicule Feb 2015
Filing robotically
Smiling like a million
(fake)
Mona Lisas
In a portrait that
has violently painted them
violently painted us
decided our landscape
(colors
design)
painted violently
smile smile smile
Mona Lisa smile
It demands that we smile
But
This is not art
Smile smile smile
But are you happy
Smile smile smile
But are you happy
Fall fall fall
crack the smile
serene Mona Lisa
is cursed
like us.
how much of this is real?

— The End —