Mama Zen asked us to write about the difficult. A poem of 75 words or less that expresses the hard, something that we wrestle with... Mama Zen I did squirm, I did!
unique text
surrounds my sewing machine
vintage lace piled
ideas dance in doubt
clouded gray
I want to create
tired of your
white gloves, your brass buttons and starched mood
leave me
in my piles of ideas, in my recycled treasures
I have so many, yet
I can't create
when you are here
you sucked my soul through a straw
you won't read my words
you don't see me
anymore
My muse won't come out when my hubby is home. She hides and tucks her ideas and thoughts in notebooks! She waits, to be alone to create...
Kim over at Poets United asked us to write a poem on Reflection! Here is mine...
I thought I would play with images on the site Polyvore. It is addictive ;D
pastiche
[pa-steesh, pah-] noun
1.
a literary, musical, or artistic piece consisting wholly or chiefly of motifs or techniques borrowed from one or more sources.
2.
an incongruous combination of materials, forms, motifs, etc. taken from different sources; hodgepodge.
See also the Merriam-Webster.com definition for an exhaustive set of synonyms.
Kerry challenged us to do a prompt on this word, this technique called Pastiche! I'm excited she thought of me, when it comes to hodgepodge. Thank you Kerry~
I found this quote, which I think really does sum up the idea, so well, at least in my opinion! "Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your
imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings,
photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges,
street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select
only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do
this, your work(and theft) will be authentic." -Jim Jarmusch
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
with a million eyes
sometimes is miffed and muddled
by her search of wonder
in pale hours it is lost among the dust, the fog, the dangled light
Over in the garden, Margaret shared some amazing talent with us. Dolls made by her daughter and her fellow classmates~
I chose Emma Whitlock's doll because it reminded me of my dance with self doubt. The more I share myself as an artist, the more I dance with the ups n' downs of my authentic voice, my confidence and my muse. The dream catcher reminded me of the nightmare I feel during the day, as the dark shadows of doubt linger, on my artistic journey.
Dark thoughts feed
like wretched bacteria
lingering in
night's shadows
feeding on
one's soul
sucking and tearing
at
what is real
an invisible hand
is
reaching beyond
hope's gray bed
bile billows out
of your pores
and oozes
a rotting smell of
despair remains
as
the invisible manifestation
speaks in a
serpent's voice
don't
listen
cruelty
will eat
your creative self
and toil, like decay
putrid n' foul
its vile
voice churns leaving
a
shredded skin of confidence
the repelling thoughts
seep like a sieve into
your gray matter
don't fall into
the acidic brine
wake
to the force of potential
listen
to
soul's whispers
like soft dandelion's wishes
close
the door
on
resistance
and dance
with the dust motes
of your day...
and wallow in the tumble
weeds
allow
Your Muse
to
play
in the blue hour
those
echoes
cast in the net of your
everyday!
Fireblossom asked us to write a poem about our inner opposite. I fear there is a bit of truth, in my liar, liar poem....can you figure out what I might be lying about ;D
