Edgar Degas
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- Posts: 2691
- Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Edgar Degas
Edgar Degas
When I last visited my old friend
he looked frightened,
disoriented. He urged me to leave now—
as if he didn’t recognize me—
his cane slashing the air.
I see him occasionally,
alone at dusk, walking streets
where he and Mary Cassatt
once wandered together,
stopping at millineries
and dress shops.
He returns nightly
to paintings stacked
against his walls,
where a dancer in a muslin skirt
leans a leg over a rail,
and another girl steps forward
with her right foot.
Each pauses for Degas,
awaiting his next
instruction.
As he ages Degas becomes more
and more isolated,
his hearing almost gone,
his vision so bad
he can't read,
much less sketch or paint,
his work reduced to wax
or clay statuettes.
Exasperated he flings them
to the studio floor.
I again find him, exhausted, slumped
forward on a table, his face
covered by his hands, the air
a fog of fine dust.
When I last visited my old friend
he looked frightened,
disoriented. He urged me to leave now—
as if he didn’t recognize me—
his cane slashing the air.
I see him occasionally,
alone at dusk, walking streets
where he and Mary Cassatt
once wandered together,
stopping at millineries
and dress shops.
He returns nightly
to paintings stacked
against his walls,
where a dancer in a muslin skirt
leans a leg over a rail,
and another girl steps forward
with her right foot.
Each pauses for Degas,
awaiting his next
instruction.
As he ages Degas becomes more
and more isolated,
his hearing almost gone,
his vision so bad
he can't read,
much less sketch or paint,
his work reduced to wax
or clay statuettes.
Exasperated he flings them
to the studio floor.
I again find him, exhausted, slumped
forward on a table, his face
covered by his hands, the air
a fog of fine dust.
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- Posts: 1619
- Joined: 01 Jun 2008, 09:17
Re: Edgar Degas
Don't know much about Degas. Too many gifted geniuses are haunted. That's the poem for me. Good job
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- Posts: 2154
- Joined: 18 Apr 2005, 04:57
Re: Edgar Degas
Hi Bob,
Who is the I? What is the narrator's relationship to Degas? I believe that recognition would further validate the observations conveyed.
In this illustrated workshopping(including a reduction in pronouns) - of course for your perusal & consideration - I will example with a brother being the speaker. -- Michael (MV)
When I last visited,
he looked frightened, and disoriented,
as if not recognizing his brother --
demanding me to leave now—
cane slashing at the air.
I see him occasionally,
alone at dusk, walking streets
he and Mary Cassatt once
wandered -- stopping
at millineries and dress shops.
He returns nightly
to paintings stacked
against walls:
in one, a dancer in a muslin skirt
leans a leg over a rail;
in another, a girl steps forward
with her right foot. Each
pauses for the master,
awaiting his next
instruction.
Degas ages, becoming more
and more isolated --
hearing almost gone,
vision so bad
the old man can't read,
much less sketch or paint.
His efforts, reduced to wax
or clay statuettes. Exasperated,
he flings them
to the studio floor.
Again I find him -- exhausted,
and slumped forward on a table,
his face covered by his hands,
the air, a fog of fine dust.
Who is the I? What is the narrator's relationship to Degas? I believe that recognition would further validate the observations conveyed.
In this illustrated workshopping(including a reduction in pronouns) - of course for your perusal & consideration - I will example with a brother being the speaker. -- Michael (MV)
When I last visited,
he looked frightened, and disoriented,
as if not recognizing his brother --
demanding me to leave now—
cane slashing at the air.
I see him occasionally,
alone at dusk, walking streets
he and Mary Cassatt once
wandered -- stopping
at millineries and dress shops.
He returns nightly
to paintings stacked
against walls:
in one, a dancer in a muslin skirt
leans a leg over a rail;
in another, a girl steps forward
with her right foot. Each
pauses for the master,
awaiting his next
instruction.
Degas ages, becoming more
and more isolated --
hearing almost gone,
vision so bad
the old man can't read,
much less sketch or paint.
His efforts, reduced to wax
or clay statuettes. Exasperated,
he flings them
to the studio floor.
Again I find him -- exhausted,
and slumped forward on a table,
his face covered by his hands,
the air, a fog of fine dust.
BobBradshaw wrote: ↑16 Nov 2021, 05:25Edgar Degas
When I last visited
he looked frightened,
disoriented. He urged me to leave now—
as if he didn’t recognize me—
his cane slashing the air.
I see him occasionally,
alone at dusk, walking streets
where he and Mary Cassatt
once wandered together,
stopping at millineries
and dress shops.
He returns nightly
to paintings stacked
against his walls,
where a dancer in a muslin skirt
leans a leg over a rail,
and another girl steps forward
with her right foot.
Each pauses for Degas,
awaiting his next
instruction.
As he ages Degas becomes more
and more isolated,
his hearing almost gone,
his vision so bad
he can't read,
much less sketch or paint,
his work reduced to wax
or clay statuettes.
Exasperated he flings them
to the studio floor.
I again find him, exhausted, slumped
forward on a table, his face
covered by his hands, the air
a fog of fine dust.
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- Posts: 2691
- Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Re: Edgar Degas
Thanks, Michael. I have made a change in the first line, clarifying that it's a friend speaking.
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- Posts: 2154
- Joined: 18 Apr 2005, 04:57
Re: Edgar Degas
Hi Bob,
A workshop-share in which the speaker's relationship surfaces from the dramatized:
When I last visited,
he looked frightened,
disoriented. He urged me to leave now—
as if he didn’t recognize
his best friend since boyhood --
his cane slashing the air.
Michael (MV)
A workshop-share in which the speaker's relationship surfaces from the dramatized:
When I last visited,
he looked frightened,
disoriented. He urged me to leave now—
as if he didn’t recognize
his best friend since boyhood --
his cane slashing the air.
Michael (MV)
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- Posts: 2691
- Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Re: Edgar Degas
It's a good line, Michael, but I don't think Degas had a best friend since childhood. He had few people he was close to...maybe only Manet for awhile and Mary Cassatt. He was basically a loner, an outsider though he attended weekly evening dinners for many years at Manet's place as well as weekly cafe meetings with other artists and writers, Manet again the leader of the get-togethers. He and Cassatt were close as friends for many years.
Re: Edgar Degas
This is good but I miss your usual brilliant images and similes.