Death is a Woman

Henri Rousseau

War or Discord on Horseback

Death is a Woman

In the face without masks

Death is a woman

In the moment you know yourself

Death is a woman

At the end of all questions

Death is a woman

As the well of all answers

Death is a woman

At the end of all regrets

Death is a woman

In the liberation through tears

Death is a woman

As the relief from battle

Death is a woman

In the loving embrace

Death is a woman

As the end of all pain

Death is a woman

As the return to the source

Death is a woman

In the dreamless sleep

Death is a woman

In the endless peace

Death is a woman

~ Ulrike Gerbig ~

The Walkers

Henri Rousseau

Carnival Evening

The Walkers

(He speaks.)

Walking, walking, oh, the joy of walking!

Swinging down the tawny lanes with head held high;

Striding up the green hills, through the heather stalking,

Swishing through the woodlands where the brown leaves lie;

Marveling at all things -- windmills gaily turning,

Apples for the cider-press, ruby-hued and gold;

Tails of rabbits twinkling, scarlet berries burning,

Wedge of geese high-flying in the sky's clear cold,

Light in little windows, field and furrow darkling;

Home again returning, hungry as a hawk;

Whistling up the garden, ruddy-cheeked and sparkling,

Oh, but I am happy as I walk, walk, walk!

(She speaks.)

Walking, walking, oh, the curse of walking!

Slouching round the grim square, shuffling up the street,

Slinking down the by-way, all my graces hawking,

Offering my body to each man I meet.

Peering in the gin-shop where the lads are drinking,

Trying to look gay-like, crazy with the blues;

Halting in a doorway, shuddering and shrinking

(Oh, my draggled feather and my thin, wet shoes).

Here's a drunken drover: "Hullo, there, old dearie!"

No, he only curses, can't be got to talk. . . .

On and on till daylight, famished, wet and weary,

God in Heaven help me as I walk, walk, walk!

~ Robert William Service ~

The Tiger

Henri Rousseau

Surprise

The Tiger

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forest of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could Frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And, when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And watered heaven with their tears,

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

~ William Blake ~

Who Has Seen The Wind?

Henri Rousseau

Spring in Bievre Valley

Who Has Seen The Wind?

Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you:

But when the leaves hang trembling

The wind is passing thro'

Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I:

But when the trees bow down their heads

The wind is passing by.

~ Christina Georgina Rossetti ~

Ego Tripping

Henri Rousseau

The Dream

Ego Tripping

I was born in the congo

I walked to the fertile crescent and built

the sphinx

I designed a pyramid so tough that a star

that only glows every one hundred years falls

into the center giving divine perfect light

I am bad

I sat on the throne

drinking nectar with allah

I got hot and sent an ice age to europe

to cool my thirst

My oldest daughter is nefertiti

the tears from my birth pains

created the nile

I am a beautiful woman

I gazed on the forest and burned

out the sahara desert

with a packet of goat's meat

and a change of clothes

I crossed it in two hoursI am a gazelle so swift

so swift you can't catch me

For a birthday present when he was three

I gave my son hannibal an elephant

He gave me rome for mother's day

My strength flows ever on

My son noah built new/ark and

I stood proudly at the helm

as we sailed on a soft summer day

I turned myself into myself and was

jesus

men intone my loving name

All praises All praises

I am the one who would save

I sowed diamonds in my back yard

My bowels deliver uranium

the filings from my fingernails are

semi-precious jewels

On a trip north

I caught a cold and blew

My nose giving oil to the arab world

I am so hip even my errors are correct

I sailed west to reach east and had to round off

the earth as I went

The hair from my head thinned and gold was laid

across three continents

I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal

I cannot be comprehended except by my permission

I mean...I...can fly

like a bird in the sky...

~ Nikki Giovanni ~

Big Dream, Little Dream

Henri Rousseau

The Representative of Foreign States

Saluting the Republic in a Sign of Peace

Big Dream, Little Dream

The Elgonyi say, there are big dreams and little dreams.
The little dream is just personal …
Sitting in a plane that is flying
too close to the ground. There are wires …
on either side there’s a wall.

The big dream feels significant.
The big dream is the kind the president has.
He wakes and tells it to the secretary,
together they will tell it to the cabinet,
and before you know there is war.

~ Louis Simpson ~