TWO MONKEYS by BRUEGHEL (1562)
Why, I wondered, would Breughel,
that artist of rich colour –
those deep, throbbing reds,
those eerie greens
and light-filled blues –
choose to paint this dim-lit scene
of brown and murky yellow?
Perhaps one should allow
for the passage of time
and human dirt
encrusting ancient works of art
with a darkening veneer ...
but even so, his others
are not like that.
Yet the curved shapes
of window frame and beasts
arrest and satisfy my eye;
and the sails and towers
in the pale light beyond,
pointing up to the clouded sky.
So I start to see.
I start to see
that there is much to see,
further and further
in those tiny, misty details:
a world out there. Then the eyes
of one monkey keep catching
my reluctant gaze.
I come back to
those forefront monkeys
I've been trying to ignore.
The other who does not look
anywhere but at the ground,
is hunched uncomfortably.
Finally, I see the chain.
Once seen, it stands out.
I look at the narrowness
of that stone sill, from side
to side, although it comes
some way back into the room,
and imagine them held there
looking out through the thick pane.
But they are not looking out.
They are avoiding that.
How they must miss the trees!
Nothing here to get a grip on,
nothing to swing from, even if
they had space and were unchained.
And only Breughel to perceive.
Written for Poets United's Midweek Motif: An Ekphrastic Poem.
Note: Looking more closely, I think it's a wooden sill, but 'stone' works better for the poem than anything else I can come up with yet.