My Truth
You ask, “How
long did it take?”
My answer, “I
have been practicing over 50 years.”
Again, “but, how
long did it actually take?”
As if, it has
been achieved
I said, “I am
practicing still.”
The night was
wild
Many coyotes,
wolves, and other wild creatures
Pushed through
the door
Filled the room
Remained in a
heap
Were they called
to come out
Were they cajoled
Were they all too
close
What does it mean
Many hours alone
working quietly
...Long hours
It has been no small
feat
Each, one of a
kind
No other like it
You open your
eyes
I wait suspended like a "high-flyer"
Will you “see” it
Will it resonate
for you
Or will you
cringe
At my truth
March 18, 2018
12 comments:
hmm...curious, and demands further attention, in the form of several more readings!
I hope they do not cringe at your truth. We should be able to speak truth to those who care about us. Even if it is a bit hard sometimes....both to speak and to hear.
Fascinating imagery in this, intriguing and mysterious, piece. Stunning lines of poetry that cascade to a close, that speaks volumes. An awesome piece of writing!
Gorgeous! I always wish for others to see what I mean, and am often disappointed--but in the arena of art without words, it is probably harder. I can imagine the hours, the subtle turns of tone, the dedication, the room full of wild life, that you tame and untame.
Very powerful.
ZQ
The display looks fantastic! Yes, each painting the result of evolution over 50 years of practice.......all those peaceful hours in your studio as you make your journey. Wonderful, Annell.
Truth like a master art work.
This was so intriguing and I read it several times....yes we do practice our truth for so many years....
I think the "aha moment" between artist and viewer is rare. And, what happened more so is the artist feels and expresses. The audience views in terms of her or her perspective of things and time
Same goes for poets and their readers I would say
much love...
Monday WRites is live; I invite you to link in
much love...
An artist's truth vs. people's perceptions. Love this, Annell.
Yes, life is a practice Annell, whether we are artist or poet or just ourselves.
Your second and third stanzas remind me of an art exhibition I was invited to. It was full of coyote’s wolves and other wild creatures, disguised as art critics. How full of themselves they were, how inflated their egos’ and how shallow they were.
My friend and I didn’t stay very long; I found the whole thing false and oppressive.
I see your truth Annell, but will I see differently than you (I wonder)…
Anna :o]
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