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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

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peeling paint

A wonderful poem, selected by Stephan as a feature.
the view, while not painting:
a magpie's head tilted,
admiring a windchime
on the balcony -

lapis and mirror shards casting
colours through windows,
across rooms,

inspiration asleep
by the glassdoors, prisms
stretching across its back,
dancing into its dreamturns.

the constants:
bored layers of paint chapping
on badly varnished canvases,
winterdry lips sighing for moist,
forgotten light chasing itself
in circles on the floor.

leftovers:
an inspiration's daymares.
a magpie's laughter.
the winds.



Kath - on Feb. 11 2007

Mmmm... lots of crystal clear atmosphere here.  The ending is strong with hearing and feeling. The important "while not painting" is an original phrasing, and puts the reader (watcher) next to you looking. Clear image "the magpie" and its "tilting". The "lapis and mirror shards" come across to me as painting materials discarded, dropped, and that they "paint" on their own is easily visualized and fascinating... "inspiration asleep" strikes my imagination as a cat!  Nice word "dreamturns". I like the  "constants:" Oh my, I just realized that for two readings I read that as "constraints"!  (I almost like that better more blunt and these ARE constraints... isn't that interesting?)The images in that stanza are very consistent, the "chap) ping, "boring", "forgotten", etc.  (it took me a second reading to be won over by "forgotten light"--but then I saw it as temporarily lost inspiration. And of course I love the "leftovers"!  Wonderful to be reading you again!


Loba - on Feb. 11 2007
Thanks Kath!
"inspiration asleep" was originally dedicated to my cat niisa, the first notes of this were written down one lazy non-painting summerday about a week before she passed. she taking her afternoon nap in the sun (by the balconydoor with the prisms dancing over her black fur) and the magpie almost waiting for her to wake and chase him off.

i like the "constraints"-idea and wouldn't be surprised if a change in the poem was made.

thank you again for reading!


huh?
EmilyRose - on Feb. 13 2007
The word lyrical comes to mind. It is not the rhythm in this piece, though that is strong, but the language, the choice of words, that makes this sing.

Is it just me, or can you all feel the extra layer of depth that poetry written by artists contains?

Layers and layers of colors on air born canvas created for our minds' fingers to dance in.
Loba - on Feb. 13 2007

biased, you are.

thank you, sweetheart.
*love*


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