Saturday, December 6, 2008

Family Group

                                                                                          Jean Frederic Bazille


Jean Frederic Bazille
 Was an artist of renown.
He could capture something fleeting,
And, forever, set it down.
He could copy folds of fabric
As they flowed around a form;
He could intimate that distant clouds
Were heralding a storm.
He could make scenes last for ever
Lke this one beneath the tree;
This Family Reunion 
Will survive eternity.
He could copy the expressions 
On each stern Victorian face;
He could etch it in our memory,
This scene, this time, this place.
But I fear there's something missing
Of quite a different sort,
For Jean Frederic could never
Immortalize a thought.
What are these people thinking?
Can we make a guess?
For certain they are not like us
In manner, speech or dress;
But humanity's unchanging
Or so it seems to me,
So let us listen-in a while
To the thoughts beneath the tree!

Two gentlemen have just arrived
But they don't intend to stay.
Thinks Jack 'I hope they're not aware
That Fred and I are gay!'
Thinks Fred 'I fear Jack's not my class!'
He's worn a business suit!
This is the end! Next Saturday
I'm giving him the boot!'
Auntie Maude, all corsetted,
Wearing her Spanish shawl
Thinks 'Who has thrown their hat down there?
That won't do at all!'
While Uncle Dan, who's gazing
Rather blankly into space
Thinks ' I love my mistress, little Tess,
But can I stand the pace?'
Ermintrude and George are there
Standing stiffly at the back.
They'd like to let their hair down
But chairs are what they lack.
Thinks Ermintrude 'They ask us here
 Then don't supply the seating!
This is the last time I'll attend
A stupid family meeting!'
Thinks George 'She's hanging on my arm 
Like a positive dead-weight!
I'm off to France on Tuesday
And I can hardly wait!'
Poor old Constance, sitting there,
All droopy by herself,
Thinks 'What now will become of me? 
I'm really on the shelf!'
And see the Twins, both dressed in blue,
Alice and Beth by name,
Both of them thinking 'Wretched Mum!
Making us dress the same!'
Finally there's Algernon, 
Sidling up to Rose
Who's looking rather virginal
With a prim and proper pose.
Thinks Rose ' If he keeps on like this,
Pressing me with his knee,
I'll find myself responding
And everyone will see!'
Thinks Algernon 'I'll keep this up
Though it may be over-zealous.
I'm only teasing darling Beth,
Trying to make her jealous!'

The thoughts float in the ether;
Like clouds they'll soon disperse
Unless some Philistine lady
Turns them into verse!
Artist Jean Frederic Bazille
Painted what he could see!
But he simply couldn't paint a thought!
He left that up to me!


LA Nickers said...

Love this!

Thanks for participating! Next week's prompt is up.


PS: On Sundays, you are welcome to post a link-comment at MEME EXPRESS - with your SIMPLY SNICKERS entry. 8-)

Kat said...


You're the limits Brenda.

Not only the French artist... all people who pose for paintings would spin.. if their thoughts are painted by a Philistine lady..!!!!