Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Images stir beneath the surface
butt up against unyielding skin
doubts crust interior motives
I am restless, tormented
pray for an opening
a release…
…that creativity
will prevail, break
through stagnation.
(Tuesdays I borrow from my Twitter account: @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
He had lost everything of value to him. There was an empty canvas on the easel, his colors and tools. What would he paint? *
Eyes reddened from tears
he bears his soul, like a wolf
howls into the emptiness
No response
Life shrinks at the sight of him
wounded creatures fearing
his motivations, advances
Entrapped
Escape alludes – walls
structures of his fear
he is his own obstacle
Alone
He will find his bearing
claw his way through faithlessness
Solitude, after all, an ally to his breed.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: *quotation captioned. Image my own.)
Creativity is a beast
hungers for expression
Ego set limitations
mocks imperfection
At best, I parody talent
nefarious my efforts
Still, I must
feed the beast.
(Image from personal collection.)
Words seduce –
I respond
with alacrity
Tingling fire
infatuated
as I am –
Creativity’s whore.
(Tuesday’s Twitter day. Visit me @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)
My mind is ablaze –
ideas churning
vying for recognition –
greed is ego’s bane
hogs the spotlight
but other thoughts stir
gentler, more insightful –
will remain in shadow
till a quorum empowers
artful expression.
(This poem is from Twitter @Vjknutson. I’m linking it up with Reena’s Exploration challenge which is the featured image. Photo credit: Daniel Salmieri.)
My faith is goat steady –
surefooted in rocky times –
I keep her within sight,
safely separated.
Store her with potential –
mountain lion persistent –
set them on the other side
of vision – lock myself away.
It’s the tigress in my heart
that unsettles me the most –
certain by her pacing
that she’ll consume me
Tremble at the demands –
self being called to embrace
something higher, deeper –
an assertion of essence.
( “Contemplating Emergence” is the name of the art, that like the poem, found its origins in my dreams.)
Creativity lands in unfamiliar,
communicates with the unknown –
unformed connections invite themselves in
I am open
Religiosity emerges from the crypt –
impoverished, depraved, and hungry –
overwhelmed, I am embarrassed, enraged –
should not have let my guard down.
My muse speaks in muffled tones,
a susurrus of inspiration – too bad
I am hard of hearing.
(Tuesdays are for Twitter. Find me @Vjknutson.)
There is chaos inside –
of course, there is –
we did not emerge from the womb
fully enlightened…
I release the chaos
brush stroke by brush stroke
word by forming image,
unravel the mystery,
find new depths.
Creativity’s
an eight-legged
life-sized terror,
has me cornered –
those menacing eyes
and crushing mandibles
paralyzingly frightful –
about to be consumed,
I throw her some cheese.
