transparency–dVerse Poetics

Image kindness of artist
Sunita Khedekar. Used with permission.

transparency

i.
from the tops of roofs
birds chortle their delight,
weave mournful melodies
for all to hear,
while behind facades of homes
clothed in riotous colors
dark secrets may linger.

ii.
close as we may be—
neighbor-to-neighbor,
spouse-to-spouse,
does anyone really know us?
do we even know ourselves?

iii.
we are so different from one another—
colors, shapes, where we live.
yet our lives slip by,
(perhaps unnoticed,)
beneath the same sky,
warmed by the same sun,
nourished by the same earth.
let us open our arms
like the branches of a tree.
let us open our hearts
like waters of a cool stream
to welcome,
to accept,
to refresh.

iv.
when we listen deeply
we taste our alikeness.
our paths may differ
but if we look inside the core,
like the center of each flower,
(pink or orange or gold)
we are the same.

v.
small windows
limit our view of the world.
let us knock down walls
to what is beyond our limited perspective
to embrace the beauty
that surrounds us.

vi.
if we allow another
to join us in our little dinghy
both of us can take up the oars.
we will glide with greater ease,
arrive more quickly,
and still have time
to enjoy the view.

I’m so grateful to Grace for introducing us to the talented artist Sunita Khedekar who graciously opens up her art portfolio to us as an inspiration for this week’s Poetic’s prompt. Thank you for sharing your gifts with us, Sunita. Give yourself the treat of stopping by her Blog to enjoy her work, then come on by dVerse to see how other have responded in poetry.

The doors open Tuesday at 3:00 PM EDT.

The Metaphor of the Elephant in the Dying Room

Artist: Borg de Nobel, all rights reserved

The Metaphor of the Elephant
in the Living Dying Room

Those final days
we spent together,
ravens peppering
the green,
green grass
outside her window…

Those elephants
exposed for what
they’d always been:
chimera of secrets held

T            L
O           O
O           O
O           O
O    I    O
       N   N
       S
       I
      D
      E

the telling made us
bleed.

Over the years,
planted
on opposite sides
of the continent
our anger
oozed
like sap from
wounded bark

like pachy-
dermic pus.

I wish I’d been there,
crawled into her bed
to hold her
when blackbirds came
to set her free.

Instead I have a memory
(a dream):
her hands touching my head.

And Butter-
flies.

Today over at dVerse Poetics Claudia Schonfeld invites us to write an Ekphrasis on the incredible artwork of Borg de Noel, a Dutch artist. One image brought to mind my sister who died at age 61 of pancreatic cancer in a period of only four weeks. I spent much of that time with her, talking about our perceptions of our difficult growing up years. We were both only 7 when our widowed parents wed. During those years my parents, well-meaning to be sure, never spoke of our deceased parents–her mother and my father. Cris sent me back home the day before she died, but came to me in a dream and laid her hands on my head (in blessing). When I received the phone call informing me of her death, I was sitting on the deck with my morning coffee. A migration of butterflies invaded the yard. As a hospice nurse, I’d witnessed apparent “event” experienced by the families of my patients. This was the first I’d encountered myself.

Even if you don’t have time to bring your own poem to the Pub, I encourage you to make it a point to stop by and read about this talented artist, and while you’re at it, taste some fine poetry.

Monsieur Vincent

July 23, 2011 I am linking this poem to dVerse Poet’s Pub for Brian Miller’s prompt: http://dVersepoets.com

 

Monsieur Vincent, are these your boots?
They speak of pain, hard work and tears,
years of loss and darkness.

Or did they belong to a miner who died?
To one you served in those early days,
days of loss and darkness.

Monsieur Vincent, why did you try?
You saw the world in blue and orange,
a world of loss and darkness.

Did you wear those boots the day you died,
the day you tried and failed to find
the end of loss and darkness.

The world now knows an artist who sought,
who longed to love, to give of himself
in spite of loss and darkness.

Monday Morning Writing Prompt: Ekphrasis

Ekphrasis or ecphrasis is the graphic, often dramatic description of a visual work of art. In ancient times it referred to a description of any thing, person, or experience. The word comes from the Greek ek and phrasis, ‘out’ and ‘speak’ respectively, verb ekphrazein, to proclaim or call an inanimate object by name. (Wikipedia)

For our prompt I’d like to invite you spend a few moments with a friend of mine, Vincent Van Gogh. There is such a combination of beauty and tragedy in his life. You probably know he was an (apparent) failure at everything he tried during his lifetime: love,  the ministry,  and art. When he lived for a few days after his suicide attempt, he told his brother, Theo, that he couldn’t even succeed at taking his own life.

You may want to check out some of his art work on the Internet. Write an poetic ekphrasis using an image or Van Gogh himself as the subject. Here are a couple of his paintings to help you get started:

Vincent VanGogh--Public Domain

Vincent VanGogh--Public Domain