The Artist
Always in a state of repair
Wipe the slate
Driven to continue
Longing rings from far off
Echoes in the heart
When asked
What is so hard
About making a painting
The answer is
The beginning
The middle
The end
I think about it
I do not have the key
My only answer is
The artist must continue
She begins when she enters
The room that is her studio
No
It will not be laid out for her
No instructions
She must find her own way
Through the no-s
Brush away any tears
In the middle
She may have lost her way
No memory of
What inspired her
And has no idea
How to navigate
The artist often
Doesn’t even know
When the end is reached
The last chance
To speak clearly
To mesh the piece
Into a whole
Through the process
She will grow
She will become
The artist
Note:
repair, slate, time, driven, think, night, no
mesh, tear, room, longing, key, become
I have heard it declared that “painting is dead,” and yet I find I continue to paint, finding new and different ways to “say” what it is to be alive, to continue the old “dance.” Elisabeth Tova Bailey says, “The evolution of our species is inextricably tied to making,” I say, it is tied to painting. It records mystery, history, and the skills of our past.
Painting is a visual language. A language that is fluent, when words are not sufficient. It is not only about reality, but also about dreams, feelings, and things that cannot be spoken, for there are no words. Painting comes into existence in stillness, silence and isolation. It has the ability to be infinite in its’ meanings. It can hold different meanings for each who sees it and still another meaning for the one who creates it.
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Poets United
A Day Without You
The taste on my tongue
Is metal
Bright and shiny
My stomach
Turns
Slowly
Grudgingly
Like the workings
Of a large
Ancient clock
The blood has ceased
To flow
There is no pulse
Silent
Sadness seeps
Into every crook and cranny
Like desert seeps
Hardly noticeable
Slowly running down the face
Of a dark canyon
Colors my world grey
Long to break through
The caul
Discover sun
On my cheek
Warm as your kiss
Killing sadness
July 21, 2013
annellannell 
ha just the beginning middle and end…smiles…used to paint all the time….havent done it in a year or two…its def not easy to do right and takes technique and skill but also vision…and you do grow through the process…
I didn’t know Brian. Would love to see your work. Thanks for the comment. Annell Livingston HC 74 Box 21860 El Prado, NM 87529
annell@taosnet.com http://www.annelllivingston.com http://www.somethingsithinkabout-annell-annell.blogspot.com https://annellannell.wordpress.com http://www.geoform.net
Painting was never my forte, but when I did dabble, I enjoyed the middle bit…
To mesh into the whole and hence to make the artist whole. Process and identity!
how vivd the breaking through the caul into the warmth of the kiss….really like that last little bit of your second poem annell…
Thanks Brian. Especially from the Love Poem King!
I think the same is true of the writing process–especially in the longer works–novels and novellas–when do you know you are done–and how do we not get lost in the rewrites–
I think so, too.
Not sure that any piece of art is ever truly finished. Only holds the hope of being ‘done’ as we move onto the next thought, idea, or inspiration. Really like both pieces Annell…are you creating a series on “The Artist”? The second poem moved me deeply and dawned a new level of understanding. Thank you,
Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2013/07/20/grasshopper-dreams-v/
“like the workings of a large ancient clock”…..cool! So beautiful the line “slowly running down the face of a dark canyon.” Beautiful visuals in this poem and a felt sadness.
Enjoyed this, Annell. Art is everything.
Pamela
Agree with Pamela – without art we are no longer human! Your second poem is achingly sad. It moved me greatly! Reread to savor it again!
I would hate to think that painting ever did die. It’s such a wonderful form of expression, of allowing the viewer a chance to glimpse into an artist’s soul.
I agree with you whole-heartedly on painting. Annell these poems are stunning that second one was just AMAZING! I really loved it =) Like is inadequate here I love it =)
Every stroke of the brush is an attempt to find or create the key!
A Wee Whirl
Splendid word artistry! I really enjoy the flow of your words. x
mother wintermoon, thank you for your comment…my site is: http//Somethingsithinkabout-annell-annell.blogspot.com