The Padded Pool

Francesca Woodman, Untitled, Boulder, Colorado, 1972-1975

 

The Padded Pool


Birthed from merciful brine
and a primal language of silence.
Deprivation soon realized as enduring loss,
the warmth of weighted water gave freely
as a harbor for emotions: sad and very sad.

 

“…she didn’t do a lot more for you than give birth to you. In case you’re wondering, we—the family—were always aware of this, but there wasn’t much we could do…”
— Anon


Two Feet – “I Feel Like I’m Drowning

 

Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

 

Affectation

Artist Anna RizzardiPhotographer Anna Rizzardi

 

Affectation


Finally revived
From your half-truths

Lies: sins of omissions
You took my breath away
Laid me to rest
While Lying in Wait — four days
I traveled to Nain
Bethany and Galilee too
Cruel is the beautiful ugly man
Whose façade got wet
Exposing the bone

 

.
“It is not only what we do, but also what we do not do, for which we are accountable.”
― Molière (Jean-Baptiste Poquelin)


Jewel – “Who Will Save Your Soul

Affectation was originally posted October 22, 2015.

 

Copyright © 2015 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

. . . . . . . . . .

Venus de Milo

Photographer Sally Mann

 

Venus de Milo

Front and forward
In vintage light
Her alabaster skin
And sun-kissed hair
Glowed brighter than the rest
There’s no denying
Among the crowd
Of same-old, same-old
She stood out
At five, late afternoon
Poised with confidence
Obvious swag and personality
Born with provocative gesture
Shoulder thrown back with la-di-da motion
Hip turned out in told-you-so pivot
Brows tipped down
In thoughtful calculation
She was and always would be
The cat that swallowed the canary

 

“I like to make people a little uncomfortable. It encourages them to examine who they are and why they think the way they do.”
― Sally Mann


Video — “
Sally Mann *

 

Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

 

Dove

Photographer Sarah Moon

 

Dove

 

With fragile ankles
We turn on pointed toe
Extricating ourselves
From the lukewarm rubble

 

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.”
― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

 

Sarah Blasko –Bird On A Wire”                         *      

 

Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

 

Gesture of Surrender

Au Revoir — Photograph by Mia Pharaoh

 

Gesture of Surrender

I collected
Dust as years
It served me well
A buffer
Protecting everything
Real or otherwise
Compressed
A token

 

“Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”
― J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan


Oskar Schuster – “
Sedmikrásky                                                                              .* *

 

Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

 

Half Nelson

Call Of Duty  — Artist Mitch Griffiths

 

Half Nelson


He was the unknowable
He was the ever shallow pool of liquid amber
He was the clink of ice, the red booths
He was the motels, the Murphy beds, the naps
He was the driver, never the talker
He was the ageless, the timeless
He was the smoothness of face, for it never moved
He was the invisible, yet he was the visible
He was the walking wounded
He was the wakeful dead

 

“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”
― G.K. Chesterton                                                                                                        
Drive

Video — “Mitch Griffiths, The Promised Land                                                      Frail

Original Post July 18, 2016

Petite Burr

Untitled 1979-1980 Photography by Francesca Woodman

 

Petite Burr
10 Words


Sometimes the dreamers, thinkers and artists are born of circumstance.

 

“I was so busy trying to maintain my shell, preventing any of my broken, scrambled self from spilling out onto the sidewalk. I couldn’t let any of the ugliness show, not yours and what I thought was mine too. You were convincing, implying how wrong I was about everything. You wore white; I was always dressed in your hand selected shade of grey. All the long while, I shrouded myself in uncertainty, a conflicted reality. Yes, I kept the secrets, and yes, you were right and you’ve always been right. I was wrong about everything, there are no more secrets and I no longer stand in your grey shadow.”
— M. L. Lurie, The Lost Journals


Deep Purple – “Demon’s Eye – Francesca Woodman Pics”                        
   .     .

 

The Glue Factory

Photographer — Aaron Siskind

 

The Glue Factory
Grenades and Landmines


She was doubt,
And she knew it.
Yet, in her heart
She was always more
Than the counterculture image
Of a hundred Warhol glances.
An “It Girl” lookalike,
Deteriorating
Becoming invisible
Abrasive hands
Slowly eroding
With a menacing tone;
Time: winter’s ice
A mirror for reflection.

When the rain arrives
Where do the Papillons hide?
And why,
Do they break wild horses?

 

“The very things I might have given in to, that demanded, that said, this is your life. I mean, this is your only way to survive, are the things I fought hardest to end. ‘Cause I believed in something else. And um, what makes that sane is that I can understand other people’s situations in their own terms, but ‘they’ still can’t understand mine.”
— Edie Sedgwick


Mazzy Star – “Into Dust”                                                                                              
.      .

 

Copyright © 2015 Mia Pharaoh.

 

Needle & Thread

Photographer Ilse Bing — Poster, Henry VIII, 1934

 

Needle & Thread
The Glue That Binds Us


Charred sentiment dispensed
The remains of our days,
Spent: cleaved away
As leaves torn of paper.

Distant memories engaged
The feeble free fall
End over end;
Tumbled as pigeons
Latched together
With arms open.
We headed towards
Eliot’s perpetual April;
Never gave thought
To the tire of love.
Youth’s newness: blind elation
Staved off the wolves of reality.
Salt of the earth
Took leave, our loss;
We pushed the pieces forward.

Soiled uniforms
Dressed in suits of grace,
Cumbersome and too large,
We traced our paths
Again and again;
With dogged determination
We dragged ourselves

Through foot worn ruts.
In the end, we realized
There would be no phoenix
To rise f
rom the ash.

 

“It may have been in pieces, but I gave you the best of me.”
― Jim Morrison


Hindi Zahra – “At The Same Time”                                                    
Transformation

 

The Pardon’s Wife

Triste  — Photographer Mukti Echwantono

 

The Pardon’s Wife
100 Words


When days are long, nights longer, there thrives a predictable chaos to everything that walks silently behind her. It hides beneath her shadow of certainty, which she prays to religiously and righteously. It smiles as she makes missteps, finding glee in the lessons. It frightens her in the dark, having no hands to hold. It lies in wait as she becomes ever more unsure as
to her purpose and direction. It casts a net of paralysis over her will and determination. When she reaches the point of wretched indecision, it reveals itself as a familiar stranger, an unwelcome friend, Fear. 

 

“It was my own fear that allowed me to keep a safe distance from myself.”
― M. L. Lurie, The Lost Journal 

 

Banks – “Beggin For Thread”

The Pardon’s Wife was originally posted September 26, 2016

                                                             Dilemma     Panic

Copyright © 2015 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.