Saturday, July 15, 2017

William H. Drummond writes


Your beauty stuns me speechless 

It takes my breath away 
Each time I gaze into your eyes 
I have no more to say 
Abashed I blush and gasp for air 
I drown in pools of love 
I lose myself and reappear 
A hand inside a glove

And yet I know the beauty 

The curls and curves and scent 
Is not what you are truly 
Is not the main event 
For you are not an object 
A thing that I possessed 
But an independent woman 
The woman I love best

There was a time when women 

Were property of men 
Like slaves or pets or cattle 
It was so way back when 
When men were judged by muscles 
And women by their looks 
It was that way not long ago 
I’ve read so in my books

The gallant knight, the damsel 

The cave man with his club 
They taught us to believe it 
And therein lies the rub 
Our culture has betrayed us 
We’ve all been fed with lies 
That beauty is an object 
A strong man sells and buys

But we are not ennobled 

By beauty thus defined 
It keeps us from progressing 
It makes us truly blind 
We need to turn the corner 
We need to overcome 
The weight of false tradition 
The books that make us dumb

If I see your true beauty 
And if you do the same 
Our happiness and freedom 
Will become a mighty flame 
Our sons, and yes, our daughters 
Will thank us from their heart 
When chains of guilt and custom 
We tear and rip apart 

Your beauty is eternal 

It fades not as you age 
Because we draw its features 
Upon a brand new page 

 Image result for painter and model
The Painter and His Model -- Georges Braque

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