The poets know of morning sun,
falling snow flake and the things we circle around,
like the book ends of birth and death
and the space in between.
They write what we remember
at the half edge of sleep and awake.
The poets have words
and they have the white space between
where they leave us room
to feel the words pierce or comfort,
room to breathe in and breathe out.
I have lines, and dots and I draw them.
These lines and dots form a story or maybe a poem,
perhaps of the woods and birds and the feelings
I have for the glorious world and my very temporary place in it.
Wanting to speak of these things I retreat to the alphabet I know.
Dot. Line. Crossing.
I love this artistic language of ours.
On canvas, in wood, with paper, thread,
clay, twig or found object an artist makes her marks,
sings in her own voice, dances with the elements.
Any small thing…..
A small color
Happily exploring my way into the new year
with small things created in the evenings
near the warmth of the fire,
I am inviting awareness, openness, and acceptance.
These attitudes are meant for my art,
to see what will come,
to remove myself from the front of the equation,
to drop my bucket deep into the well.
This attitude shift, shifting, shifting
feels like vital work to me, to step back, and back, and back,
to get very clear that I am not driving the bus,
but that I am invited to create.
And that I humbly accept the gift.
My art. My life.
Do you know words for this?
Dot and line together
There are so many kindred spirits in the blogging world.
And I appreciate you.
I would like to introduce you to an artist and blogger you may not yet know,
but she is another kindred spirit,
living her life with quiet gusto,
being true and blogging about it.
Here, at “to live poetry” you can find Anca Gray
who today has blogged some of my thoughts and work.
I am honored Anca.
Anca is an artist friend of mine from tumblr
who has graciously included me in her blog post series.
Anca describes her series as
“a regular friday feature, a series of quick interviews with strong creative confident women that inspire me”.
I found Anca’s questions enlightening.
You might answer them for yourself and
see where they lead you.
One word rolls across the floor,
Lodging under the slipper
Of the man who has felt uncomfortable
Now he knows what to say.
~naomi shihab nye
From a poem titled
Listening to Poetry in a Language I do not Understand
I am following the lines and dots to the well.
It’s probably also sometimes called the rabbit hole……See you there?
Any small thing can save you.