Sentences refuse to form –
words, however, bear pairing
Punch-packed phrases
delicate unnervings
Fear grasps the wrist
stunts sentences –
thoughts staccato
emotions gagging
Poetry loosens the grip
bundles the mayhem
spits it out –
births breakthrough.
Artistic sensibility
hungering for 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 –
the genie will not be rebottled.
(This is an edited version of a previous post. Art my own.)
Open to healing –
delve into the subconscious
create a space for inspiration
Ignore limited capabilities –
value every offering –
enter with pure intentions
Embrace new starts
have faith in ability
be spurred into action
The Self holds the answers;
creative expression is the key.
No expertise required.
(Art is my own)
Sweet solitude
sacred silence, surround me
Imagination
thrives under your spell – unleash
the magic; I shall create
(Art my own, with a nod to AI)
Creativity partners more with chaos than clarity
It craves colour, light, darkness
movement not supported by 2 dimensions
I delude myself into thinking that words,
cleverly positioned, can decipher the compulsion
fail to understand that soul, unchained, has no words
It is the free-flowing expression of music, dance
It follows the murmuration of birds, and
crawls along the earth, serpent-like
I seek the intimacy of knowing other –
raw and unblemished – but how can this be?
We are form emerging from mystery
That I should find you, Love,
there amid the noise of awakening
then I am more than blessed
Your mind reaches for the definable
while I drowsily bask in sensations
our coming together never akin to wholeness
Yet explosive in its imperfection
Oh, if we could see the artistry
 arising from two souls seeking unity
Comprehend that we are the instrument
the vessel through which creativity speaks
a magnificent tribute to Life’s source.
(Art is a combination of my own effort and AI.)
Winter –
the colour of my hair,
a sedentary state of being,
the numbing over of ambitions
These are all but illusions…
I am fluid,
essence flowing,
passion undaunted,
creating…
(My image)
In these inclement times –
fear stoking anxiety –
we seek anchors,
faith to carry us
Imagination offers an outlet,
distracts from the angst –
a creative reprieve
to lift our spirits
(Art my own)
Open to healing –
create a space for inspiration
delve into the subconscious
Enter with pure intentions
ignore limited capabilities –
no offerings are meager –
Embrace new starts
with faith in ability –
be spurred into action
Self holds the answers
creative expression is key –
no expertise required.
(Open to Healing first appeared here in August, 2015.
Edited for this post. Art my own)
Simple phrases
words like scented blossoms
capture my imagination
carry me
How is it,
dear poet,
that you sense my needs
write my revival
(Image my own)
Chronic this pain
finite the energy
fuels each day
Ability to wonder,
marvel at nature –
without limits
Thoughts, like leaves
break away, swirl
float on the wind –
I am at one
with possibility
free to create
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 