Drawn to trees
ink chasing lines
yearning for definition
How to capture
strength…beauty…
such profound calm
Even as the regal Walnut
towers over this place
she dwells within me
I know
I feel her
she seeks expression
My Tree of Life.
(In Response to Eugi’s Weekly prompt: Tree of Life. I have been obsessed with drawing trees. The featured image is the beginning of a series that keeps drawing me in. Others in the series below.)
Father, as immoveable
as a mountain
taught us to orchestrate
submontane routes
Circumnavigating
his rocky moods
bestowed upon us
a fear of masculinity
Resilience instilled
the necessity of mining
gold from darkness:
still digging.
(Sketch mine)
Forgive these ellipses…
mind sputters… lost
in woods… indulge
attempts of emergence…
seeking ambrosia…
within shadowy heights.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Consciousness commands
a shift of focus
tired of the clash of colours
stimulation overload
my muse is leaning towards
the nuance of black and white
A study of shadows
and shading
and how light
arouses the soul
Speak to me in subtleties
she whispers
in tones suggestive
of hidden depths
I am listening
And so I submerge myself
clear the palette of vibrant hues
and take up the lowly pencil
seek the promise
in a colourless world.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: a colourless world. Sketch my own.)
Of cubism,
I am ignorant
yet, I relate
To express
depths of perception
concurrent aspects
Of a multi –
imagined
universe
Or even
to embrace
the possibility
of oneness
in fractured
slices…
I pull apart the pieces
re-create the image
still cannot find the whole.
(Reena’s Exploration challenge this week is cubism, a subject I know nothing about, but it does seem to fit with this self-portrait I’ve been working on. Synchronicity in action.)
The magic is not
in crossing paths
with celebrity
Gaining entry
into inner circles
deconstructing myths
Magic is the moment
when flattery does not sway
when recognition surpasses
the gloss of stargazing
embraces inner substance
evolves into self-acceptance.
(For Eugi’s Causerie Weekly prompt: magic. Art my own.)
Had a weird sort of lexicon
the man who professed
to be my dad –
Clamped in his chokehold
he’d demand words of devotion
Became inured to this dichotomy –
spent a lifetime searching for love –
Just the right balance of cruelty and kind.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Sketch mine.)
Artistic sensibility
hungered by the exquisite
craves expression
The critic guffaws
decries creativity
starves the impulse
Who unleashed
such nonsense,
such magical thinking!
To think beauty
once espied
can be replicated
and by such an amateur
the unskilled hand
an unworthy representative.
But the artist, unleashed
knows only magic –
this genie will not be rebottled.
(Thank you to Reena’s Explorationchallenge, whose prompt line is: The genie is not getting back in the bottle.  Art work my own – self-critiqued and found lacking, thank you.)
Blackbirds utter gloom
speak in murmurations
grey blots out sunlight
blurs definition – pencil
contemplates early nightfall.
(Tanka and sketch by yours truly)
I dream of a woman
Mother-centred
grey-haired essence
oozing strength –
a vessel, rain focused
decoding political lies.
Leaders are locked
targeting anxiety
selective stances
patriarchal bedmates
ending unsafe
Rioters blow up
martyr consciousness
metamorphosis in throngs
chemicals insignificant
when innocence ignored
temples violated.
What is next?
A future gatekeeper
spouting personal freedom
recalling pleas, charming
ghosts of the past?
We need
discernment,
a woman
Mother-centred
grey-hair wise
leading the way.
(I dreamt of a goddess figure, and attempted to capture her in the pencil drawing featured. Working on that dream, many things have emerged. The poem above is just on example.)
