Rudimentary Paragons

“There is still that singular perfection, and it's perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more.” ― Michael Cunningham (The Hours)

Rotate - just by a quarter of a half-circle,

Flatten the crises of the tapering corners,

Gently pressing precise forces

Of my sanitized fingers,

Subduing them in the Bristol paper ossification.

(Note to self:

Don’t let your mortal skin breach the neat, leaden margins)

“Now look!

Think!

Judge!”

Head cocked,

Lips pursed,

Inking of a rising disapproval

Swam in the sullen eyes.

“Rotate! Reverse!

Rotate!”

He dabbed the brush in the water-palate.

Sea-green meets Prussian blue.

“Paint her eyes once more!”

Humble, wordless submissions

A muse to his master:

Pardon me,

But I am no Aphrodite’s daughter.

Never mind if you can’t make out

The slender curves beneath the vintage drapes.

My eyes consummate

The smearing pigments, but not as you intended;

They don’t reincarnate the lost city of Memphis.

But justice is done.

Their unearthly gaze

Summarize, suffuse and protrude

 ~~Feminine Contemplation~~

Bold and unabashed,

The cursive letters tilted in accurate bents and angles,

Bid their time

For the gallery cruisers.

“Cut it out!

It’s Impatience’s call.

Sift through! Filter!

Let no rants be in these canvas curtains!

No tradeoffs!

Pride and perfection hand-in-hand,

Always.”

The colored water now dripping

Through disparaged paper molecules,

Wetting the carton cardboard.

Sounds of metal screeches

As the brush-strands siphon the remnants,

Off the circular glass floors of pastel jars.

Tired hands crumple

The skeletons of the drawing sheet,

(The fifty-third and the last one)

Scattering them

In the already littered floor.

Author's Note

Perfection -that one word that is devoured for like no other. Every day, every moment we are strive for it - in varying degrees. But what is perfection? Is it attainable in its wholeness? Or is it an illusion? A black hole that engulfs us in an inescapable self-destructive force?
The poem further explores the thought. It talks about a painter trying to perfect his creation - a painting of a woman caught in an contemplative mood. Does he manage to achieve what he strives for? Find out..

P.S. - I'm sure many of my fellow readers, like me, have a perfection syndrome. I would like your thoughts on this

Reviews

[frivolous treasures]

This was really amazing! I love your take on how each individual's perception of perfection is different. This was quite eloquent and marvelous. This really made me sit back a moment and think: What is pursued more? Perfection or happiness? Is happiness perfection or is perfection, happiness? Does art represent life, or does life represent art?

Marvelous.

[Pratik]

Thanks a million... :) I am so glad you liked it :)

[frivolous treasures]

Your very welcome ^^

[Kelsey]

This is such a wonderful way to express the fact that we all strive for perfection in some way. I really enjoyed this, trying to figure out the perspectives, and then reading your take on the writing. I think this is something everyone could read differently, and for that, I applaud you.

[Pratik]

Thank you Kelsey... Glad you enjoyed it..

[Alex]

Great bit confusing :)

[Pratik]

I know :) That was partly-intended

[Claire Twinn]

It took a couple of reads for me to get the gist of this, the first verse is quite confusing but the last verses pulls it all together really well. To me it feels quite frustrating, because although we can aspire to it I'm not sure we can ever achieve perfection. The artist is setting himself very high standards. Also, perhaps it is our imperfection that makes us beautiful?

[Pratik]

Yep... I agree.. The first stanza actually reflects the way the painter decides to judge his piece; by tilting the paper in a precise way and then appraising what he had created after putting right the crises and folds of the paper...As the artist is driven by the perfection-frenzy, I wanted his thoughts to be accurate - to a certain mathematical degree... It was an unusual way to start the piece I agree.. Thanks a million for the review.... :)

[John Alexander McFadyen]

One thing for sure Aaran the poem IS perfection. Such an intellegent, flowing depiction of the painter striving to capture his perfection. Wonderful!

[Pratik]

Thank you John! You make me feel humbled .. :)

[Muse]

I've had to learn as an artist to say...
"it was a beautiful mistake"

What we create with our pen and brush, is never perfection...instead... let it be an inner reflection.

I loved this poem..thank you for sharing.

[Pratik]

Thank you Muse... that was the idea... I made it a bit quirky though... just some random thoughts hurriedly put down :)

[Muse]

I'm quirky too.

lol...welcome to the quirky club.

[Pratik]

And I have some august company :)

[Ees]

wouldn't that be an eighth of a circle? A quarter of a half. I am sorry dude, starting out with that line made me do a double take. I realize that you used quarter of a half circle intentionally, but it, I don't know... did you have to start with something like that?
I like the pace a lot. I was a bit lost, but didn't mind too much.

[Pratik]

Ha ha... even I had that thought when I was putting that in... the idea is that even when the painter is judging his work of art- he does that in a precise manner - looking at the painting in just the right direction and angle... It's an unusual starter of a poem , I agree.. :)

[Ees]

Haha, I can't explain it, but it messed me up, all thinking about 9th grade math. lol. I am an artist, I understand the movements and the tilting to get the desired effect. Hahaha, now I am laughing, don't know what else to say. haha