The Other becomes objectified–
the truth barren, ruptured, hollow–
the path clogged and narrowing–
the pieces shot, scattered,
A nonet for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday words, empty and space. There is so much of it that needs to be filled these days.
I had a vision for this watercolor, but the paint had its own ideas. Obviously acquainted with the Oracle.
I study the lines
on this face,
depending on the angle
both parents appear.
ages both of my
like I did
in those black and white photos
How do we
become who we are?
cells that form
shapes of hands,
a certain transcribed motion–
time in a mirror.
Ammol at dVerse has asked us to write a portrait poem. In the past I’ve done a series of self-portraits in the style of other artists (with poetic accompaniment), but in this case I just took 3 recent drawings in my own style, an occasional morning exercise.
I also like to draw my hands.
Every year fall foliage surprises us with its clichés. Fibers yellow on the edges, becoming brittle and brown. Scarlet fire burns itself into a colorless ash.
Memory preserves the departed colors, waiting in darkness.
We have been to this place many times before and yet still it catches us, wheeling us with the wind. Time contracts, translating itself into a hidden refuge, a seed to hold and protect through the long nights.
Life turns inward now–
sleep opening like the wings
of migrating birds
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #107, fall foliage.
to set in stone–
the whiteness of marble
rendered with light
an image meant to be immortal
plundered and abused
by the movements
of men and time—
faceless and unlimbed now
the imperfection of decay–
of the end
Merril is the host for the dVerse quadrille, using the word “set”. I drew this Greek sculpture torso a while ago, and added some watercolor on top of the drawing. What remains of the original figure has its own beauty.
I was late to the Oracle this week, but her words seemed appropriate for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt above. There was half of a luminous moon in the sky last night.
how the moon longs for
each wandering season
to make life’s deep path
through ancient cycles of song–
walking with earth–
orbiting distant stars
The moon keeps her proper place in the circles of the universe. Hopefully humans will return to theirs.
I’ve been doing some postcards in combination with the Collage Box and its Oracle. For this one, I took a postcard of Van Gogh’s “The Seine with the Pont de la Grande Jutte” and added a few elements and a poem.
constructed out of
the shadows–transparent soul–
my body here undone
Also linking to Open Link Night on dVerse, hosted by Grace.
The table is full of noisy ghosts–
they are woven through
the cloth that warms the bread–
simmering in the bowl of broth,
poured into the wine glasses,
reflected in the blade of the knife.
They gather in unrelated absence,
unknown to each other or themselves–
their years are few and many,
ages compressed into moments in time,
their stories fed by seasoning,
by the harvesting of lives.
Lingering beyond sustenance,
beyond hunger, an ache
that vibrates both blood and bones–
faces shadow the vacant chairs–
they whisper into the ceilings
and behind the dark walls.
Jade (hosted by Grace) at dVerse has us writing about food. I first wrote this poem for an Ekphrastic Review challenge, but it was rejected. I wanted to rework it a bit and do a collage, so this was the perfect opportunity.
If you want to see the artwork, by Anne Vallayer-Coster, that was the inspiration for my poem and art, and see the responses chosen, you can find them here.