July 21, 2013 Sunday Whirl #118/Poets United

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

 

 

 

 

July 17, 2013 Poets United

Verse First ~ Water Table

Posted: 17 Jul 2013 03:32 AM PDT

Verse First ~  Water Table

 

Welcome to Verse First, where simple notions prompt amazing poems.

Today’s notion?

 

WATER TABLE

Water Table

No you can’t see it

From here

But it’s there

Lying still

Deep rich

Resource

Waiting to be called on

When your throat feels dry

Unexpected

Refreshing

Yield

Cinnamon candy

Poppy fields

 

 

 

 

July 3, 2013 Poets United

The Deepest Connection
(The Artist in Her Studio)

Tap root
Dive deep
Dig down
Seek

Lights and darks
Colors on a wheel
Texture – smooth to rough
Line and such
Blights to dull
Shapes to delight

Dive deep
Hold on
Seek some more
Explore
Take a sounding
Mark four

Dig down
Risk it all
Satisfy the hunger
Clocks broke
Day’s end
Without conclusion
Tomorrows a new day
Try again

Seek
The journey is long
Made up of days
A lifetime to be sure
Illusion of time stops
It seems you just get started
Rolling downhill
Sun sets in the west
Day’s done
The sun rises
Begin again

May 25, 2013 Sunday Whirl and Poets United

Prompt: beam, anchor, shift, close, heart, phrase,
range, connect, current, fertile, layers, yield

AFTER THE SHIFT
The open range
Atop the mesa
Dropped anchor
Grew root
Buried my heart
In less than fertile ground
Deep in layers of caliche
No harvest yield expected

The wind’s current
Scours the landscape
As my heart grew in the land
The land grew in me
Sunbeams shine
Most everyday
The phrase
“A sunny day is a happy day”
Becomes a question
As there is a close connection
Between drying and dying
All that lives needs water

_______________________________

Poets United

Verse First ~ The Wild Truth

Journey to a Wild Truth

Truth that elusive thing

Hiding right in front of my face

Out of site

Hard to hold

Hard to know

It changes

Shifts

Won’t hold still

Is only for one’s self

Can never know for another

What is true

What is not

Often what is not true

Is the truest thing

I know