I’ve been working on this most of the week, on and off, and I’m calling it done. I learned a lot doing it and I’m pretty darn pleased with how it turned out.
I think there’s a little more of this but tonight my words seem all pushed away…
Laying paint film by glaze by blotch
reveling in the occasionally brilliant stroke
seems to have pushed away all the words.
Driving home, I admire the fields golden
still and at the edges overlaid with
a bluey sort of lavender greyish
the difficult white shrub the glowing pink
and in my mind I see the paints mingling
on the broad palette yielding to the brush
reviving with a drop of clear water.
A poem of necessity to start the day, we’ll see what the rest of the day brings.
waiting room blaring
always a background
are we so afraid
of a breath
our thoughts too loud?
Quilting and painting both – love hanging the day’s work up and sitting to look at it. Really helps with the process – what comes next. With paintings, I really enjoy my gallery wall with my more favorite paintings, I wonder if Vincent did that? Writing isn’t so easy to hang up on the wall, but I guess it’s that pleasurable re-read before writing starts again.
The pleasure of painting
at the end of the day –
hanging up the work
and looking at it. Maybe
it feels good, maybe
it taught you something
even if you didn’t really
want to learn it right then.
Relive the struggle or the joy
that little bit of color that
turned out just right
a happy surprise, secretly
there’s much there that
resists explanation which makes
the “I did that”
as sweet as rain in the night.
in an april afternoon
look – the daffodils!
The wind plays with them,
the daffodils brought today
in April’s madness.
Warm yellows cool greens
generations of leaf brown
The best part of monthly “events” like NaPoWriMo and the August Postcard Poetry Festival is that it gets you to sit down at the blank page every stinkin’ day. Yeah, so what if you miss a day. Who cares? I guess I do. It interests me that even if I think I might have to declare a day off because I have no ideas at all in my head, even if I come this close to just pulling the covers over my head without writing a single word… if I start thinking about it on the way home, maybe I can pony up a phrase. If I sit down at the computer with the file open, I type the [***] which for me (please take note future researchers) designates a different day, and then I type something. It might be sketchy. It might be a decent first draft of a poem but it’s something. So that’s what you’re getting here – a sketchy first draft, just like the twelve that came before it. The past few days there has been a definite NON-flowing of words, so I take what I find.
Walking. I’m walking.
in my dream I am walking.
Dark. I am alone.
The moon is behind striped clouds
The trees are leafless.
songs quenching the thirsting rocks
moon glints on river.
wind brushing back wisps of clouds
night tinted silver.
Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo was to write a Bop: “The invention of poet Afaa Michael Weaver, the Bop is a kind of combination sonnet + song. Like a Shakespearan sonnet, it introduces, discusses, and then solves (or fails to solve) a problem. Like a song, it relies on refrains and repetition. In the basic Bop poem, a six-line stanza introduces the problem, and is followed by a one-line refrain. The next, eight-line stanza discusses and develops the problem, and is again followed by the one-line refrain. Then, another six-line stanza resolves or concludes the problem, and is again followed by the refrain. Here’s an example of a Bop poem written by Weaver, and here’s another by the poet Ravi Shankar.”
I have to say that it was a beautiful day. I fixed two plumbing issues. I stripped the bed and did laundry. I finished a landscape which was sort of meh, and did a quick little still life of my favorite brushes. I looked at two watercolor-related books. I shook my head over the news. I watched the daffodils start to yellow up. I opened the bedroom window. But the words… been a hard few days.
A Reminder of Ideas, Just in Case
Before the month started I wrote down this:
A reminder of ideas, just in case –
For those days when words didn’t flow from me
When there’s fresh laundry that needs my folding
and everything looks better than the page.
the list of ideas that might be useful.
Oh spirit of writing, where have you gone?
Practice, perseverance, daily commute
The work of dailyness, the clouds and sky
sonnets and haiku and some limericks
Taking time to look, A box full of paint
No ideas but in things. Just do the work.
Beauty. Coming home. Walls full of paintings.
A wall full of my paintings. Hold to joy.
The color of a lake. The length of days.
Oh spirit of writing, where have you gone?
Tonight this list is a whole universe
tonight the words are somewhere in between
Today I painted, I’d say with success
a still life of my brushes. And I fixed
the washer so it works. I folded sheets.
I reviewed the reminder of ideas.