The Art of “Blank”/writersdigest April PAD Challenge 2019 Day 12
And that is exactly what art is
The art of “blank”
The empty mind
Open for “come what may”
In the morning, I come to the studio
My mind empty
I am fresh
Rested from a good night’s sleep
Ready to go
I sit at the computer
Catch a prompt
Magically, I begin
It is as if an old man is beside the road
Pointing in a certain direction
He looks at me and asks
Now, what have you to say?
I often say, I don’t know
Rather I’ll give it a try
I rummage in the attic
Find a few old saved things
I begin
Never knowing the destination
It is the same for painting
Often, I don’t know
Destination unknown
Perhaps I continue to follow
The prompt of the day
The art of “blank”
April 12, 2019
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A Path Not Taken/A Love Poem/imaginary gardens with real toads
Fireblossom Friday : Love
http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com
A Path Not Taken/A Love Poem
The light comes through the window
Late afternoon
It is as if King Mitis
Had touched each object in the room
All was golden
I remember you
There was a kiss
It was long ago
I was someone different then
You would call
We would exchange a chat
You lived far away
One day I looked you up
Found you had died two years before
I was saddened to hear
You were a path not taken
April 12, 2019
14 comments:
I was someone different then... I get that feeling a lot these days. Funny how one's youth sometimes seems like a foreign country.
It is the "coyote", that is "time." Likes to play tricks on us...as we age. All that, "stuff," packed away, seemed so precious, could never throw it away...and yet, it seems to belong to someone else, a foreign land, another time and place. Thanks Kerry.
I love the description of the golden light as if King Midas had touched everything. Thanks so much for being part of my prompt today.
How sad to discover, no chance for recovery of that old moment in time, Not that one ever can but death is so final,,, I enjoyed your poem very much,, I can identify,,
Oh that momnt of looking up a significant other to find he has died. That happened to me, too, a while back. I love "I was someone different then." Me, too.
Yeah, I learned, several years ago, by accident, that my 1st high school love had passed away several years before that. It's funny how that kind of news still hurts like you'd been in touch all those years, eh?
We revisit love and who we once were and it is surreal. When a love dies, it still brings hurt, a resurrection of sadness.
These are amazing poems, Annell. That blank page, and empty canvas. You have to paint your own good news these days.
This one could be true for most any of us, Annell. My first love died at age 20 or younger. She killed herself. My parents held me back a year in school as LL would then be in my first grade. That didn't bother me until my sister started first grade when she was four, I had to wait until five for LL.
There were just us two in class. First love, we had an "episode" on the descent steps leading to the storm cellar's floor. I was disappointed. I was also very disappointed when she left public school after the second grade for a parochial school. I didn't hear about her death until later as I was off in college then.
..
We mourn also for the younger self, I think.
I like the way you set the scene, Annell, with the late afternoon light coming through the window, and then put the distance between now and then. I know what it’s like to look someone up and find out that they’ve died. A poignant poem.
Yours is strung more wistfully than many in the prompt -- yet stings harder for the realization at the end. If makes for a dazzling confection.
I feel the grief of regret in this Annell. Beautiful writing!
... two years. And all that time just the comfort of thinking they are there...
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