parallel rhythms fan into a V—to lead and then to follow
opening I ride currents weaving feathers with the wind
For Frank Tassone’s #haikai challengegoose. I chose to paint snow geese. It’s not draw a bird day, but any day is appropriate for birds.
It’s been a challenge for me to get any work done that I like, both with writing and art. I decided to do some ink and brush painting for the goose. This is an unforgiving medium, but one I enjoy, and the focus required was good for me. I spent an enjoyable hour painting, ending up as always with a pile of discards, but with a few worth posting.
I am continually reminded of my drawing teacher who told us that of every 100 drawings we did, only one would be worth saving–so draw, draw, draw.
superimposed lines– pick them up, examine the landscapes beneath,
follow the intersections– the map of bodyworn years
I chose the theme for Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday prompt #192, Maps, but did not get a chance to post my response. When I pulled it out to look at it this morning it took awhile to remember my creative process.
I wanted to use a map of NYC and a self-portrait and layer them somehow. I had seen a layered piece of art that used holes cut in the top layer which I liked. The challenge was to make the holes work with the portrait underneath.
As usual, I managed to take off a few years from my face in my drawing, but otherwise I think it’s a pretty good likeness. Our faces contain many maps, but sometimes you have to look closely to see them.
the language of gone–
a call without a response,
so loud it can’t be
heard—a silence entombed in
itself—on the other side
My poem “Obituaries”, is one of the responses to Joaquin Torres Garcia’s painting, “Pintura” (below), posted on The Ekphrastic Review today. The three poems on this post were composed from parts of it.
Frank at dVerse challenged us to write some 5-line Japanese form poems. I must confess that I like the 5-7-5-7-7 form of the tanka, now considered by purists to be false. Whatever you call it, I still think it works well as a way to focus thought and express feelings.
the language of absence
language of gone
the before of never
the language of death
The new definitions for writing tanka and haiku confuse me, and I have no idea how to write something that will satisfy the powers that be, although I keep writing 3 and 5-line poems. And although I recognize a well-written gogyohka, and understand the single line-single breath idea, I have difficulty naming anything I’ve written with that label as well.
But and so…in my continued pruning mode, I’ve taken the posted poem (which was itself severely pruned several times) and turned it into three 5-line poems. Hopefully they fit the dVerse prompt in some manner.
My thanks to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for once again featuring my work. You can see my poem “Obituaries”–the original from which these 5-line poems were taken–and read all the other responses as well, here.
I consulted the Oracle while considering Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above. This morning I was up as the sun was rising and even though there are no trees nearby I could hear the birds waking the day as they do every spring. It was a welcome sound.
I did a lot of fiddling myself with the art–first I painted a soft background, and then I did some more intense stripes on a separate piece of paper. I cut those up and tried a number of arrangements. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I started, but satisfying nonetheless.
as morning returns
light fiddles with sky
mist, the thousand green forest
languages, blue wind
whispers of pink moon gardens–
dream shadows swimming through time
This is a watercolor with a moon photo collaged on top.
I’m going to be absent from posting for awhile, though I will try to check in with what everyone’s doing. I’m moving into a small temporary space, putting most of my stuff in storage, and hoping to move into a permanent home before 2020 is through. I won’t have a drawing table and not sure how many supplies will fit into the space, but I’ll be back to doing more work of some kind as soon as I can.
My January grid turned out to be a circle. The words were taken from a NY Times section that summarized the 2019 year’s top stories. I tried to take all the negativity and give it a more positive spin.
The birds may have been climate-changed out of their respective states, but they are still here.
in opposite images
anything can be portaled
where borders cross into birds