The Girl With No Eyes


The Girl With No Eyes

Upon an empty, blank white canvas
A bramble of nets hangs
Draped upon a middling wall that
Between the two worlds, stands
The real and virtual blur here
In bleak lines of elegy
In a charcoal swept darkened swirl
The girl with no eyes, sees.

Tangles of hair fall on her face
Softly, the wind blows
Speaking a language in a tongue
They all hear but she knows
And painted there, amidst the pots
Are broken memories
Upon the wall that all gaze at
But only she can see

The girl with no eyes watches them
And smiles, mirthlessly

The contrast plays into the glaze
Framing a stark visage
The rest recedes from all there is
From the force of her rage
From all that lies hidden from words
Meanings in strokes of black
They all come to stare at her
The girl with no eyes, stares back.


Some paintings just take your breath away, for reasons you can’t quite place. I came across a painting of that sort this week. It wasn’t a Van Gogh, but it packed a double kidney punch just the same. It just.. took my breath away. And a special shout out to Satyajit, for his kindness and helpfulness and generosity, and for the opportunity of seeing his good taste and selection. Thank you very large, Satyajit! =)

I believe some people speak in images. The way musicians, good musicians, speak with notes woven into a melody that, if done correctly, tells a story even behind the lyrics. Some times the lyrics tell a different tale while the music calls to a different one, sometimes they reinforce each other and the kind of songs that make your tummy flip flop are born. In the same way, some people think in words, they translate the world they see and perceive into words, into essays or poetry or stories. Some people frame their experiences in paintings, in pictures, with nuances and feelings tucked away in swirls of color, or swirls of black. Oh, no color can speak just as loudly as all of them screaming together. Regardless of the medium of expression, there is a story hidden in every form of art.

So, where do you hide your stories?



21 thoughts on “The Girl With No Eyes

  1. Oliver Twist says:

    Wonderful poem cookie! I used to paint a while back too. I feel that’s the best way to get your thoughts out. Sometimes when you can’t find anyone to express your thoughts you can paint and let it all out in a painting. It’s like a secret code that only you can read. Do you paint too?


    • Thank you so much, Oliver! I do, but not nearly as often as I’d like to, I’m afraid. Nothing too complicated, but just that I’m painting is incredibly relieving, when I get around to it. I’d love to see some of your work! =)


  2. andy1076 says:

    Beautiful..we all have our arts deep within that we express, The beauty really is in how everyone sees it in their own way isn’t it? πŸ™‚


  3. Madsies says:

    Wow, speaks beautiful. And that’s very sweet of you. And “The Girl WIth No Eyes” ‘SAW’ me sleeping πŸ˜‰


  4. Madsies says:

    ❀ Hugs N Love


  5. PapaBear says:

    “The Girl with No Eyes”…, just the title is grabbing, Cookie, then you drew imagery around it and infused it with emotion. Incredible !!! I loved it. So you also paint ? Like you, I used to paint and would like to get back to it. (oils and watercolors) I once did a series of 5 roses, the first white, then red, blue, purple, black. No one ever guessed the story they told, except the lady who bought them, but when you placed them in progression it was obvious, at least to me. I’d like to see some of your paintings sometime. Hugs!


    • Thank you so much, Paul dear. =) I did go a-hunting for the horses I painted after Sand asked for the picture. Mum reckons its in storage but as long as I have it, I’ll find it and post it. =) and that sounds just like something I’d expect from you, too! A series of stories strung together telling a deeper tale. =)


  6. PapaBear says:

    What do you think the story was ? Could you make a story of it?


    • The progression of colors you used made me think of two different things. Firstly, a bruise, that grows darker and less painful with time. Second, that hibiscus flower that changes in color with the passing of the day. Both though, seemed steeped in time. Am I close to guessing what you intended the story to be?


      • PapaBear says:

        The bruise was closer than the flower, but there was some of the beauty of a flower involved, Cookie. It was the story of a love, blossoming in the purity of white at first meeting and then developing more rich and deeper color as it progressed, terminating in funery black at her death. More about this only if you ask. xo


      • I will ask, but another time, Paul dear. Thank you for sharing that with me. ❀


  7. Sand says:

    The things I’m willing to share I express in words because I have no skill, seriously, NONE, with paint. But there are always stories that remain inside, hugged tightly to my heart.

    I really like this one, my dear. There are eyes and then there are eyes. You’ve made that so clear and in a wonderful way. Your girl sees what others don’t. People perceive on so many different levels. Having perception beyond what others can fathom is what makes a guru.


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