Monet

My Monet

He abandons her as I abandon you.
Day after day strives to better capture

what he must, this sensation too quick
becomes that sensation, this telling moment

of light, of consequence. He lives
in perpetual debt. Scratches what he can

while debt collectors hammer down his door.
Like him all I can give is the family I neglect

to catch this colour of breath, these times
I will not see again as life flits by. Grief

behind and in front and with each step
outside the door a debt, a loss, a given.

2019 Paul Brookes

Monet

She loved vanilla,
eggs & snow.

Every night she

tracked the cusps

of the moon—

she died today;

she was wrapped

in whites as she

traversed the clouds.

By Jay Gandhi

My Monet,
He said Is
Charming adorable shining bright
one but in a constellation ,distant
difficult to decide, I moved  to  Yi
Ching cleromancy, whom shall I fancy?
My monet needs space, no one is
perfect, maybe the typical blonde
the smartest with ‘The Look’ so
loyal smart and an amazing cook
I dream of one, of varied trichitic
impressions, like a painting visible,
unusual visual from distant scape
sparkling in form, a classy inscape,
My monet I found much to my joy
a painted expression, soon discovered
in dismay, colored over lines ‘n contours
was just another classic artistic  impression.

2019 © CER       Anjum Wasim Dar