Poem Review: Portraits
In our second review of humanity, we explore poems inspired by portraits — those that reflect self, beauty, and loved ones. Here’s our perspective on portrait poetry: a poem mirrors the poet, who interprets the portrait, while the portrait reflects the artist — the creator.
“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the colored canvas, reveals himself.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
The idea of a portrait is that there is a ‘sitter’ or the ‘muse’ and there is a painter or an artist. The sitter or the muse is the inspiration, and the painter is the creator. There is a sensory input from the sitter to the artist. A creative process within the artist (involving imagination and observation), followed by a physical rendition almost like a dance with the pencil and the brush dipped in colors, and finally, the imprint of that creative dance on canvas. As we can see, the creation of the portrait is a beautiful, almost meditative process.
Would we feel the same with the poetry about portraits? Well, let us explore three poems and answer that question.
Mary Oliver, the best-selling poet in the US of A, talks about her self-portrait revealing her zest for life;
Leslie Xavier, a Ponder Series tribute poet, creates magic with his brushstrokes inspired by his sleeping muse;
Yugantika Mohapatra, a debutant poet in our Ponder Series, paints a daughter’s version of her father that she yearns for.
This Ponder poetry review is dedicated to Mary Oliver, who, the New York Times called ‘far and away, this country’s best-selling poet’.
Poem 1: Self Portrait
I wish I was twenty and in love with life
and still full of beans.Onward, old legs!
There are the long, pale dunes; on the other side
the roses are blooming and finding their labor
no adversity to the spirit.Upward, old legs! There are the roses, and there is the sea
shining like a song, like a body
I want to touchthough I’m not twenty
and won’t be again but ah! seventy. And still
in love with life. And still
full of beans.~Mary Oliver
Commentary on Poem 1:
“Seventy is the new twenty.” Let’s explore that idea. Let’s create a self-portrait. I’m older now. My knees shake and buckle; my bones rattle and creak as I walk.
The lines on my soft, mellowed skin tell the story of my battles and scars in this wild rollercoaster ride of life. My fingers are thicker and more complex; I can’t bend them the way I used to, and the same goes for my hips.
I wish I was twenty and in love with life and still full of beans.
Onward, old legs!
There are the long, pale dunes; on the other side
the roses are blooming and finding their labor
no adversity to the spirit.
Remember the self-portrait. The curve of my smile contrasts with the lines on my skin. Inside, I wish I were younger, innocent, and filled with the vivacity of my heartbeats. My legs may not carry me any faster, but they still support me. I urge this faithful pair to trudge on the sandy dunes, which dissolve beneath my feet and are covered again in grains.
The blooming roses are a blessing for eyesight, and they know that creating something beautiful requires a bit of hard work. Life comes with a purpose and the spirit to achieve that purpose.
Upward, old legs! There are the roses, and there is the sea
shining like a song, like a body
I want to touchthough I’m not twenty
and won’t be again but ah! seventy. And still
in love with life. And still
full of beans.
My old legs may carry me slowly, but I push forward with a smile. Though my body has aged, my spirit remains youthful and energetic. There are still roses that capture my heart, and the sea, shimmering under the bright sun, invites me to reach out and touch its enticing waters.
“The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.”
― Madeleine L’Engle
At seventy, I will have lived my twenties, and I won’t be twenty again. However, I can embrace my seventies, as I love my life and am full of energy.
I embrace my age and cherish the journey so far, eagerly anticipating the adventures that lie ahead. If I were to draw my portrait, you would see a smiling, vibrant seventy-year-old.
I love to paint my picture, but there is another possibility — an artist painting the muse, that too a beautiful sleeping sitter. Let us get to Leslie’s verse now.
Poem 2: Portrait of a Sleeping Beauty
In the many seconds
that elapsed
since you smiled and sighed
heralding sleep,
I paid heed,
and sat on a morning vigil,
pouring oil and heart
onto the canvas,
painting a portrait:
The sleeping beauty.She transcends meridians
to guide my brush strokes,
verbs and words add colour,
a glowing brown,
and her dreams add
the grandeur, a masterpiece.— Leslie Xavier
Commentary on Poem 2:
She lies on my sofa, which has essentially become hers. She enjoys sleeping and watching television. After that, she often wants to dress up and go to the beach. However, I prefer to see her when she sleeps—there is a profound sense of tranquility in her that brings me peace as well. You might be curious about the reasons behind this feeling, but I won’t share them. This peaceful image of her sleeping is something I hold dear.
“I spent many a charming evening talking and playing with Albertine, but none so sweet as when I was watching her sleep.”
― Marcel Proust, The Captive / The Fugitive
The idea of depicting Sleeping Beauty as a portrait is captivating. The dynamic between the artist and the muse unfolds into its narrative. The poet enjoys being with the muse when she is awake, but he finds himself drawn to her even more in her sleep.
In the many seconds
that elapsed
since you smiled and sighed
heralding sleep,
I paid heed,
and sat on a morning vigil,
pouring oil and heart
onto the canvas,
painting a portrait:
The sleeping beauty.
The moment the muse attempts to rest is when the artist struggles to capture her pose. In many ways, muses hold power over artists, influenced by their relationships and personalities. For the artist, muses are not just models; they also serve as a source of inspiration and motivation for their imagination.
He waits for her to fall asleep as she drifts off to slumberland, lying on the artist’s sofa. He listens to her stories, smiles, and sighs, patiently waiting as the clock ticks from the late hours of night to the early morning. Once she is asleep, he remains awake, staring at the canvas, and then uses oil paints to create a portrait of her in slumber — titled "Sleeping Beauty." Working with a muse can be complicated for the artist; it requires immense patience and forbearance. The artwork reflects not just the figure of the muse or the artist’s imagination, but also the essence of their relationship.
She transcends meridians
to guide my brush strokes,
verbs and words add colour,
a glowing brown,
and her dreams add
the grandeur, a masterpiece.
Leonardo da Vinci’s most notable muses were his pupils, Gian Giacomo Caprotti (Salaì) and Francesco Melzi, with Salaì being a prominent assistant, model, and possible lover, while Melzi inherited Leonardo’s manuscripts and sketchbooks. Picasso had several influential muses throughout his career, including Fernande Olivier, Marie-Thérèse Walter, Dora Maar, Françoise Gilot, and Jacqueline Roque, each inspiring distinct periods and styles in his art. Vincent van Gogh’s muses included Sien Hoornik, a pregnant prostitute he lived with and painted, and places like Arles and Paris, which served as settings for many of his famous works.
In this poem, "Sleeping Beauty," the muse inspires the artist's brushstrokes. He combines the sensory image of her lying right before him with his imagination and their relationship, allowing these elements to flow onto the canvas with each stroke. Her dreams intertwine with his imagination, a vibrant tapestry of thoughts and visions. The painter, who is also a poet, finds inspiration in the elegance of her postures and the vividness of her dreams. They infuse his words and verbs with rich, resonant hues, all bathed in a warm, glowing earthy brown — the exquisite shade of her skin, radiating warmth and depth.
“To be a muse is to be a wonder in someone else’s eyes, flaws and all.”
― L.H. Cosway, Still Life with Strings
The grand portrait of Sleeping Beauty reflects the muse's closed eyes and sleeping posture, along with the artist's attentive gaze during the night vigil.
Sometimes, the portrait is not what artists see in their muse, but what they yearn them to be — and it has to be a loved one, like Yugantika’s. Let us explore her poignant rendition of her father, where her wishes turn out to be her muse.
Poem 3: The Portrait of a Father
In a group of four, beyond the reach of childhood truths
Only fancies that I drew
Let me make you up,
Happier than the other one
Calmer at the edge of travesties
Emotional but never crying
Beautiful and Eloquent
Loving towards the wife
And kids
Always proud, always funny
Never mean
Let me make you up,
A father that never angers
Nor a father I fought with
Always agreeing, always smart
Respectful, more respectful than the other bloke.
Let me make you up,
Merely with love
Against the burden of colours in a greying world
Finding beauty in dismay
Romanticising the scorching heat this May
Painting you into someone else.~Yugantika Mohapatra
Commentary on Poem 3:
The last word my father told me was ‘Sorry da.’ I have never gotten over his words. His words of apology had nothing to do with his life, but he felt that he could have done better, or maybe, a different person. But he is my first and only hero, even if he had come short of his expectations. Between a life that could have been lived better and a life lived well, there is a gap between our expectations and reality.
For many daughters, their father represents their very first hero, the first man they truly admire and love, often even before their mothers. They deeply desire to be the cherished angel of their father’s heart, the apple of his eye. However, it’s important to recognize that for some, the father they envision in their hearts may not match the one who is physically present in their lives, leading to a sense of longing and unfulfilled affection. This discrepancy can create a profound yearning for the connection they desire.
To pull an artist’s agency, and assert her claim on her desires is the highlight of this poem.
In a group of four, beyond the reach of childhood truths
Only fancies that I drew
Her family is made up of four members: two parents and two children. What was once a warm and nurturing environment has slowly changed over time. The childhood dreams and experiences she held dear have faded, prompting her to move on and pursue her true desires.
Let me make you up,
Happier than the other one
Calmer at the edge of travesties
Emotional but never crying
Beautiful and Eloquent
Loving towards the wife
And kids
Always proud, always funny
Never mean
In her mind, there exist two figures of fatherhood — one, a tangible reality, and the other, a carefully crafted embodiment of her deepest aspirations. She conjures up the ideal father as if she were a master artist, drawing inspiration from her heartfelt desires. This envisioned father is a source of unwavering happiness, exuding a serene calmness even in the face of life’s trials. He is emotionally attuned yet never slips into melodrama, possessing a silver tongue that weaves together eloquent words that resonate with warmth and wisdom. He adores his wife — her mother — and showers his children with love, pride, and a delightful sense of humor. This imagined father stands tall as a paragon of kindness and strength, embodying a long list of heroic attributes that speak to her yearning for an ideal familial bond.
“People are supossed to aspire to become their fathers, not shudder at the thought.”
― Veronica Roth, Allegiant
The poet wishes that her real father could serve as her muse, representing an ideal father figure. This portrayal reflects her life experiences, which indicate that her reality does not align with her desires.
Let me make you up,
A father that never angers
Nor a father I fought with
Always agreeing, always smart
Respectful, more respectful than the other bloke.
Will he ever understand that she is just a child and his daughter? Her small wishes seem to irritate him, and her calls for attention annoy him. In reality, he may be angry with her; he argues and disagrees with her due to his outdated views on how daughters should behave. More importantly, he struggles to respect her as a person. The father he has become is distant, reflecting the coldness of their relationship. However, the father she longs for—the one she envisions in her heart—remains close to her.
“I need a father. I need a mother. I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
Her father was meant to be the older, wiser figure she could talk to, complain to, lean on, and draw inspiration from. In the absence of a God and with the empty skies above her, she expected her father to fulfill that role—almost like a Freudian connection. However, he is also absent from her life.
Let me make you up,
Merely with love
Against the burden of colours in a greying world
Finding beauty in dismay
Romanticising the scorching heat this May
Painting you into someone else.
This final stanza is heart-wrenching. In the first two expressions of her desire, she yearned like a young child. However, now she speaks as the mature young woman she has become. It is her turn to take on the role of the adult.
Her father, who serves as her inspiration, has grown alongside her. In a world where seasons are cyclical, people, including her father, transition from the vibrant colors of youth to shades of gray. As time has passed and seasons have changed, her father is becoming older, yet he remains unchanged in spirit, just as her desires continue to evolve.
She is determined to treat him with love, contrasting his anger, irritation, argumentativeness, and lack of affection. Despite her disappointment with her real father, she continues to seek beauty in their relationship. During this scorching Indian summer, she imagines herself as someone else: her muse, the approachable, loving, and morally upright father she wishes he could be.
In this moment, we encounter two poignant portraits. One captures the deep, heartfelt yearning of a vulnerable child, while the other reflects the hopeful resilience of a grown daughter who is learning to move forward. Together, they tell a story of innocence, growth, and the journey of healing.
Portraying in Poems:
The portrait serves as a windowsill into the soul of the artist, while the poem unfolds as a tapestry woven with the threads of the poet’s imagination, capturing the essence of that very portrait. In this delicate interplay, words transform into vivid imagery, crafting a multitude of pictures — each a reflection of the portrait that resides within the poet’s mind.
As we delve into Mary Oliver’s exuberant embrace of life, we are swept away by Leslie Xavier’s imaginative depiction of a slumbering muse, lost in a dreamscape. Meanwhile, Yugantika Mohapatra’s heartfelt yearning to render the essence of a father figure resonates deeply, evoking a poignant sense of longing.
In all three, the subject of the portrait — whether self, muse, or parent — becomes a canvas for something deeper: a revelation of the artist/poet themselves.
“It is not [the sitter] who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who… reveals himself.” — Oscar Wilde
The same holds true for poets.
These are not portraits to hang on a wall — they are mirrors to hold to our hearts.
~Ashok Subramanian © 2025
