City gents without umbrellas
fall from the sky like rain;
I feel sorry for those fellas,
bowler-hatted, dressed in grey,
early for work in the morning,
late home at the end of the day.
Disenchanted gents are falling
past suburban windows where
their perfect wives are waiting,
aprons on, scent behind ears,
in their hands a glass of something,
a peck on the cheek – cheers.
Kim M. Russell, 19th March 2024
René Magritte, Golconda (1953), oil on canvas
Today is the day for Tuesday Poetics at the dVerse Poets Pub, where Melissa is our host with an ekphrastic Magritte prompt.
As well as interesting background information about the surrealist Belgian artist, René Magritte, Melissa has provided a selection of his artwork, in which he “transformed people and ordinary objects into art that raised questions, provoked uncomfortability, and challenged the way we view the real world. He believed that within what meets the eye, there lies much more. In dreamlike imaginings, he blended the comedic with the horrific, showcasing themes of sea and sky, and altering space and time.”
Our challenge is to choose one of René Magritte’s artworks featured in Melissa’s post, or an artwork found in one of the articles for which she has included links, and to be sure to say which works we have chosen.
writing in north norfolk 
Thanks for sharing this idea Anita
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I can feel the sadness of a perfect suburban life in your poem… it got me thinking of “little boxes”…
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Exactly!
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I feel sorry for them for sure. There is no life there. Love your opening lines Kim.
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Thank you, Grace!
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how vertical and upright they are; how fragrant their imaginary wives, colluding in their weariness
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I’m so glad I’m retired and living in the country!
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Happy for you, Kim!
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Thank you!
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You captured the perfect tone–the fake cheer of this suburban existence. Like Bjorn said, the little houses (and now I have the song going through my head.)
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🎶Little boxes on the hillside
Little boxes made of ticky tacky🎶
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I remember that song, in fact, I was singing it the other day when we passed a new housing estate being built on the outskirts of a small market town.
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Bjorn certainly started something by mentioning that song – Melissa and I have been singing it too!
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I have Pete Seeger on the banjo, too.
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“their perfect wives are waiting,
aprons on, scent behind ears,”
Made me smile😊
much♡love
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Thank you, Gillena, and much love to you.
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I like that you pointed out they lack umbrellas, along with lacking any excitement in their lives. They do seem rather disenchanted and dull, don’t they?
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Worryingly so!
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The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, as he is known here. I think there are less and less of them these days though. (K)
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You can still see them in the City of London, not that I go there much these days; it’s so much better here in the countryside.
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The lockdown did alter ideas of what had to be. And the young mostly refuse that way of working, at least so far. It remains to be seen if they can hold on to it.
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I also used that image!
I couldn’t help but think of the Japanese Salaryman, as I read your intriguing work, Kim. I can feel the dull repetition of it all!
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A few years ago I wrote a short story about the Salarymen for a competition. It’s interesting how we all have our slaves to the daily grind.
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This is probably true in many cases. Very nice take on the painting!
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Thanks Dwight!
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“Disenchanted gents are falling” – I love the effect of that. Beautiful write.
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Thank you, Abhra!
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Hi Abhra. I wasn’t able to comment on Medium , so I thought I’d let you know my thoughts here. I enjoyed your poem very much. I especially like the simile: ‘like there’s no recipe for the perfect sauce’, and the lines:
‘There’s no solace for
those who witness
someone they love, walk away
watch the wind turn wild
and the battle in the air’,
so true! I also enjoyed the sounds in the:
‘fluttering of butterfly wings
buzzing cricket at night’.
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It’s raining men! Doesn’t sound too bad, really. Athough, they’re not a happy lot, are they?
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😊
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Love your descriptive poem (rhymes as well) ~~ your gents feel familiar to me.
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Thank you, Helen!
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Hah! This made me smile….especially given that we used the same painting and once again proved your point that ekphrastic poetry is truly unique! Your perfect wives waiting in aprons does, in a way, play in to my post for this painting.
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I’m glad my poem made you smile, Lill. I’m off to read yours now. 😊
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Such a lively, colourful way to describe such mundane suburbia. Loved it.
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Thank you, Shirley.
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Lovely opening lines, and I enjoyed your description of the painting, Kim. 🙂
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Thank you, Kitty
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I think you hit the lack of individualism just as much as the sad existence, the playful rhyme and meter and “cheers” at the end only exasperating that sad existence.
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Thank you, Cris.
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Nicely done. You’ve captured perfectly the lives of corporate slaves and their wives. Of course, now some of those slaves are women 🌈
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Thank you, Roberta!
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A kind of colour inside the lines thought came to me, all so bland that grey bowler hatted way.
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I’m glad I’m not a city type ! Even when I worked in London I refused to wear anything uniform-like – I was always bohemian. 😊
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I love your take, Kim! The mundanity, the disenchantment of city life captured so well.
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Many thanks, Punam!
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My pleasure.
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