Hello Christina,
                Yes, it is indeed about Gauguin´s painting and I should have subtitled my poem to that effect, but left it off by mistake. I wondered about lemon grass myself for a long time but in the end decided to go with it, probably more from laziness than anything else in the end. Like you I have not seen the original but in the reproduction I have lemon is exactly the colour of the grass which was why I wanted to use it. I know the figure stepping over the hedge that you refer to. He is intriguing. I wrote this poem entirely as a personal response to Gauguin´s painting and I wanted to avoid running through a description of the various elements of the painting. However, one thing I feel most strongly is the sense of enervation in the whole landscape, almost to the point of sickness. That figure crossing the hedge seems to me almost not to be crossing it at all. He seems more to be static, almost as if he lacked the energy to hoist his other leg over. It was that sense that I tried to get into my poem. I´ve no idea how close my own feeling about the painting is to other viewers´ reactions to it and my reproduction is rather small and may give an impression quite different to the full canvas.



Best wishes,    Mike



--- Alkuperäinen viesti ---

Is this about Gaugin's painting, Mike?   It seems to fit very well.  I wonder
whether it's worth thinking about lemon grass?  It's easy to confuse it with
the lemon grass used in S.E Asian cookery and I'm not sure whether it's
necessarily a particularly accurate description of the colour in the painting
but I've only ever seen it in reproduction so it's difficult to know.  What
intrigues me about this painting is the man in black crossing the hedge.  I
wonder whether he might be given a look in in your poem?  Whatever, I like
the poem.
bw
christina


> The Yellow Christ
>
> Colour can meld body and landscape.
> Suspended over yellow fields
> and the hip of a hill
> the memory of green in the lemon grass
> behind this Christ is in his skin.
>
> Trees as red as body organs,
> supplied by arterial hedges,
> spread a feverish rash
> across this country, exhausted
> and silent and still.
>
> Three women kneel around the yellow Christ,
> grown out of the ground he embodies.
> They mourn for this sick land.
>
>
>
>
> Mike
>