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Axilea MU

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Grown Angel
by Axilea MU

Friday, February 04, 2011
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Axilea MU
•  Simply-fire
•  In Transit
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           >> View all 270

Angry green angel
seen from a different angle
on canvas rests.
I, below, behold
dream and go,
let go -

While you rest captive
I figure on the day without
a smile fallen on the museum floor
figurative the framed day that holds
your weightless presence -

Pyxides and little boxes
exposed,  my dream now explodes
(a mosaic)
in a thousand and two parcels of you(th)
that were growing in me
like a Merovingian cross
iron nails turned
into precious stones
your sweet irony
playing hide and seek
in my mind
slipping with socks
on the lustrous marble floor -

When the hour’s busy
and I’m alone
I finally know where to find you
a  miracle fish that jumps out of water
an alluring clue in a book of hours
I touch the vellum of  the illuminated manuscript
and have your gold on my finger
to taste
I’m soothed
my newfound enthusiasm
is the satin lining of my novel heart
allayed by you
while footsteps die away
in the gallery
where you’re imprisoned
in paint -

Outside the museum,
I see him young and free
to hold tight
a grown angel
my appetite
a different angle of me -




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Reviewed by lili dauphin 2/11/2011
So much beauty in these words. Thanks for sharing.
Reviewed by Patrick Granfors 2/7/2011
You paint masterpieces with words. Patrick
Reviewed by Iliana Tersy-Tuzo 2/6/2011
what a beautiful poem...
Reviewed by Christine Alwin 2/6/2011
To be engulfed and swallowed by art and taken away to reflect and think is indeed a deep impression, as your poem this is amazing Axilea
Reviewed by Gene Williamson 2/5/2011
Highly imaginative, artfully crafted lines. Love the
concept, admire the execution. You sing, my dear Axilea.
Reviewed by Christine Tsen 2/5/2011
Stunning visual impact in this, and you look so deeply into the nature of things!
Reviewed by Lew Duffey 2/5/2011
This indeed is a profound write.
God bless,
Reviewed by John Flanagan 2/5/2011
The opening lines make me think of Masaccio's The Expulsion from Paradise in the Brancacci chapel or M..angelo's or even Max Ernst..but i'm rambling and anyway M and M's angels are red though that doesn't necessarily rule them out...forgive me, Axilea, the mind goes strange places at times and the real point is what you do with the rest of the poem or more accurately the piece as a's striking in its reach and intensely charged atmosphere.

Reviewed by Alan Abrams 2/5/2011
her words on this glowing screen are neither gilt nor illuminated, but they taste of gold, too
Reviewed by Branch Isole 2/5/2011
"Imprisoned in paint"
yet freed for the world to see, your words a brush stroke of juxtaposition, for this fan of yours
Reviewed by Liana Margiva 2/5/2011
BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva
Reviewed by Amor Sabor 2/4/2011
The beauty in these verses are astounding, Axilea. I take each line and savor them for they saturate my mind with the art.
Reviewed by Regis Auffray 2/4/2011
There is much to ponder upon and to process as I absorb your verses and what they express, Axilea. Thank you. Love and best wishes,


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