Tag Archives: art museum

Melissa Balmain: ‘What I’ve Learned From Museums’

I.

In centuries past,
women seldom moved fast,
preferring to spend
hours on end
staring at pools,
stretching on stools,
or sitting on swings.
Now and then, they had flings
and were equally stirred
by a man or large bird.
If they did need to race –
to hunt deer or outpace
vicious hordes – they took care
that their clothing and hair
would cover, at best,
one perky breast.

II.

For generations, men were super jacked,
no doubt because they wanted to distract
observers from the fact that nearly all
their nether parts were vanishingly small.

III

Kids used to be mini adults,
with often impressive results –
even fresh from the womb
they could light up a room
and preside over sizeable cults.

Other children (nude, not a bit shy)
were great archers. I wish we knew why
they would soon have their fill
of that valuable skill
and, sadly, forget how to fly.

*****

Melissa Balmain writes: “Obviously, the museums and exhibits referenced in this poem are a specific breed—several of which I visited last summer during a heat wave in Paris. (Travel tip: if you’re looking for Louvre-quality art, but you’re running low on Euros, check out the Petit Palais. Not only is it free, it’s air-conditioned.)”

First published in Lighten Up Online.

Melissa Balmain edits Light, North America’s longest-running journal of comic verse, and teaches writing at the University of Rochester.  Her poems and/or prose have appeared in Crab Orchard ReviewEcotoneThe Hopkins ReviewLiterary MattersMcSweeney’sThe New YorkerThe New York TimesNimrodPoetry Daily, and Rattle. Her latest book of poetry is Satan Talks to His Therapist (Paul Dry Books). 

Illustration: Boucher, François – Le Repos des nymphes au retour de la chasse, dit Le Retour de chasse de Diane – J 10 – Musée Cognacq-Jay

Using form: Villanelle: Barbara Loots, ‘Docent’

The art museum behind the big bronze door.
The yellow buses lining up outside.
The little children eager to explore.

The chirpy docent: Who’s been here before?
Please pay attention. I will be your guide.
At this museum, behind that big bronze door,

there’s nudity, depravity, and gore
to take your little psyches for a ride.
You children will be able to explore

the beauty born of fear, of faith, of war,
of ancient ritual and genocide
that cannot hide behind a brazen door.

Beheadings hardly happen anymore.
Most artists have avoided suicide.
You children are encouraged to explore

the human drama we cannot ignore,
the shape of visions and the forms of pride
collected here behind the big bronze door.

You’ll find despair, anxiety, and more.
Your eyes will bleed. Your skulls crack open wide.
Have fun. Enjoy yourselves as you explore
the art museum behind the big bronze door.

*****

Barbara Loots writes: “I have served fourteen years as a volunteer Docent at the renowned Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City. For our school-age visitors, the methods we use to encourage looking and thinking are prescribed, professional, and age appropriate. However, often on my mind are the dark, unspoken underpinnings of art. The repetitive nature of museum tours suggested a villanelle.”

Barbara Loots resides with her husband, Bill Dickinson, and their boss Bob the Cat
in the historic Hyde Park neighborhood of Kansas City, Missouri. Her poems have
appeared in literary magazines, anthologies, and textbooks since the 1970s. She is a
frequent contributor to lightpoetrymagazine.com. Her three collections are Road Trip
(2014), Windshift (2018), and The Beekeeper and other love poems (2020), at Kelsay
Books or Amazon. More bio and blog at barbaraloots.com

Photo: “Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, Missouri, USA” by ernie_nh7l is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0.