20% off all products!   Sale ends tonight at midnight EST.

Return to Main Discussion Page
Discussion Quote Icon

Discussion

Main Menu | Search Discussions

Search Discussions
 
 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

The Creative Playground

The combination of poetry and art threads are evolving in an interesting way. I would like to add to the mix a place to play with art, a place where it's relaxing to go to, where you leave things that make you anxious outside. It is said that we are at our most creative while at play, children and adults alike, where we are most open to new ideas and inspirations although there is a time to play and to work, to relax and to focus, most people complain about not having time to play, but that is your entrance ticket to this thread, you have already put work aside, so enjoy.

Reply Order

Post Reply
 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

After 'L'Aquilone' by Giovanni Pascoli (1855-1912)

Air from another life and time and place,
Pale blue heavenly air is supporting
A white wing beating high against the breeze,

And yes, it is a kite! As when one afternoon
All of us there trooped out
Among the briar hedges and stripped thorn,

I take my stand again, halt opposite
Anahorish Hill to scan the blue,
Back in that field to launch our long-tailed comet.

And now it hovers, tugs, veers, dives askew,
Lifts itself, goes with the wind until
It rises to loud cheers from us below.

Rises, and my hand is like a spindle
Unspooling, the kite a thin-stemmed flower
Climbing and carrying, carrying farther, higher

The longing in the breast and planted feet
And gazing face and heart of the kite flier
Until string breaks and—separate, elate—

The kite takes off, itself alone, a windfall.
Seamus Heaney
Submitted: Wednesday, December 28, 2011

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Playing House (Arrest)

today
i pretended fo be a butterfly
emerged from my cocoon
flying on my own
recognizance
until i remembered
what that word really meant
and fell to the ground
like the slug i am
bound to the laws
of nature
and my monitoring ankle bracelet
i'll try again tomorrow

Ed Meredith
September 9 2013

 

Amanda Bangham

10 Years Ago

your environment and influences are what make up your tools. if youve got a fairly simple and happy life, youll have a nice, clean canvas and your paints all in order. creating something beautiful out of what comes across as perfection itself is a pretty simple task indeed. if youre environment is anything less than simple and life is a bit hard, you could have a rip in your canvas and your paints could be just about all dried up. but that doesnt mean that you cant create something beautiful out of the negative. its just going to be a more difficult task. life is about choices. it doesnt matter whats in your life, it matters what you do with it. i always admire the people who have gone through hell because they are the ones that come out scared broken and bruised but alive and well with a greater appreciation for the things in life that we take for granted. they understand making something out of nothing and finding beauty in garbage instead of having everything handed to them. you gotta be a little bit more creative is all. life hands you apples and you decide what to do with them; eat them quietly, throw them away, make a pie or make a pie and throw it at someone. life is one big perspective and interpretation that can and will change depending on the day. we arent weak, just a little blind here and there. sometimes all it takes is a kind hand to push back the curtains and allow us to see the light with which we will get up and go outside instead of staying inside and sulking. life is a perspective with a million different angles depending on who you ask and on what day you ask. we cant control it; life just happens. but you have all the power in the world to control how you let it affect you. try to remember that the next time youre having a poopy day. we keep swimming because thats all you really can do; keep swimming and hope for a better day but dont ever forget the pain because the pain is what made you amazing, understanding and appreciative if you let it instead of letting it consume you and turn you bitter and cold. so if life hands you a bunch of apples, what are you going to do with them??

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Amanda, along time ago i had an apple with a worm so i let it live there...


The Garden Sweet

awaken
dream a moment
recall the garden sweet
see the shadow within the shadow
that holds the essence
of truth and dream
escape the thunderous sounds of thought
and enter the quiet creation
of all that is pure
grasp both ends of the eternal
and shape it into infinity
witness the dark turn light
the solid transparent
swim
in the life giving waters
springing from the fertile
join the still oneness
that moves in a blur of delight
and stand in the peaceful procession of now
dream a moment
awaken
and be the garden sweet


Ed Meredith
May Day 2012

 

Poe Ed

10 Years Ago

Photography Prints



Recall Of Childhood Playground

i was totally free to do whatever i wanted naturally in the good old days

i
ran naked
on bare feet
on muddy streets
under heavy rains
chased and fought with other kids
in the run-‘n-catch games

i
yelled
jiggled
laughed
plunged into the river
under blazing sun

no
more
fun games
in the callous world of adults
full of control from cowardice insecurity
lies, tricks, and deceptions for personal gains
my innocence is lost
my trust is eroded

i would be sent for a psychiatrist’s assessment if i took my clothes off and ran on any city street on any day whether it rains or shines

why is it so wrong in the adult world?

2013-09-09

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

Echo to Ed's playing House


Um, What days?


I slug these days
Caterpillar treads
Wings that crawl
cast those encasements
break that spell
I emerge...

Dah Dah.... Dah!

Winged tortoise
Head in my shell
Flying coconut
I am he!!
Lol


(c) Jason Christopher
9th September 2013

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Imagine That

I play
In another dimension.
Color trailing garden vines
Climbing around my mind.
There all things are possible,
Every completely improbable
Conception of my wild imagination.

Karen Newell
9/9/13

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Playing With Time

Photography Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

My battery is just about to die but before it does just like to say hello to all you kids!!!! Haha. Great stuff. One thing I have noticed though, instead of playing fully we are mostly comparing play with rules and regulations. Freedom with restraint. I don,t know how to get around this but let's have a go for the sake of art...always...Do we really want to see naked men running across the posts haha. I think roger sweezey must play art a lot just dawned on me how much fun he must have. But hopefully we will get to the soul of play and why we should never forget to play even in the direst of circumstances.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

What is it about our egos that argue with us as we try to find our way? As soon as I finished the last post, I reminded myself, my ego did, that childhood can also be filled with shadows and darkness, it's not ALL play. But for our post it's a place just to play, ok there may be some fights and skirmishes and fallings out, but ultimately we will discover the importance of play through art and discussion without the trappings of our different cultures and traditions the passed down familiar traits etc..is that possible????

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I am not her anymore
I am me
Me is allowed to be the person she thought she could be
When the teacher played the guitar
In the garden of daisies
In the church grounds
And we had not a care
And made those flower chains
That was me
The dreamer
Why suddenly
Did I hide that moment from critical eyes
And shy away from my life?

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

Go lower
Recede
Muck up
It's your childhood needs....

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Vik Muniz Wasteland Trailer
look up this on youtube

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

Ok I give up. What's the cryptic MSG here Maria!? Lol, er
I did have a look and found so many hits I was lost and quite frankly, some were such heavy going documentaries Id need an energy drink to survive the first 2 minute.... Gawd....

But if this is the right work
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=uXG7v5N83x4

What a talented playground crew indeed!! I must go rummage, empty my bins into the girls garde n below for a few months.... And go for it! :-) as if...

 

Carmen Hathaway

10 Years Ago

Listen for it in the intro & again @ 4:06 in my video, Philip....


~ Carmen Hathaway ~

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I 've seen this before Carmen but it was wonderful to see it again, very creative video. I feel that the cards were her playing time. Wasn't she a stunner when she was younger? I love the old sepia colours though, they seemed to make film stars out of everyone.

Philip, what I thought was awater colour painting was digital, I was going to comment on the great brushstrokes giving the effect of splashing water.
The colours really express the sea foam , the struggle beneath. I constantly make the mistake of referring to your painting but I don't think you actually do paint, or do you? I'm intrigued, I know from what you say that you are a photographer so i can't work out why I keep thinking this. :))))

 

Am, always so deeply moved by this video, Carmen, and I don't always play the sound, I just watch her eyes, and now have seen some I'd missed before......I wonder how it was for her, at the end, surrounded quietly by her material and ghostly memories........did she reach out to you.? You were very precious to her, Carmen...as a child, you were 'hers' and part of her.........it is like me and my Emilie.........the bond is so sweet.....the love so enduring............I hope Emilie will be by my side 'then'.....though always in spirit..........I 'know' the child.................you were' known' 'that' way, too..............precious..............it's so different now, in my now time...........you are a beautiful daughter/grandgirl, Carmen.............Emilie will be the same, for me, no matter what ! Thanks...............

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Viv, glad you have that relationship...so special x
Philip yes, I have often felt like I am walking down this long and winding road with a flimsy cloth holding lets say vegetables, a staple diet, and every now and again one or two fall out and roll across the road and I have to pick them up otherwise I may just be left with the potatoes, And I can't choose between them, but I feel that some of them have slipped out without my knowing. And I havn't eaten fully all of one group, just bites here and there. Infact the onions, which I never could like as a child, I now love, above almost all of the others.
They all feel a bit heavier now and the road could end at any moment, or become to rough so that I will have to discard some of them and maybe only keep one type.
The question I really wanted to ask I suppose is have you painted anything, and what was it? :)

 

Carmen Hathaway

10 Years Ago

Appreciate your thoughtful feedback on Arcana -- Philip, Vivian & Maria.

Being commissioned to create this video was an incredible opportunity -- Oma finally had her moment in the sun :)



~ Carmen Hathaway ~


 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Philip, can't wait to see your first painting..I'm sure we will all be hanging on for that!:)
yes, a set up is important but not always necessary, as i think Viet may tell you. Some artists studios are a field, a watercolour pad, couple of paintbrushes, bottle of water and a several small watercolour paints. a Moveable feast.
The set up I have at the moment, spare room, I will have to surrender for my mum who is coming to stay for a while I have. priorities! It is my space for writing, painting, some photography and studying. Its a mess most of the time but also the great escape.Don't know where I am going to put it all...stressful to think i have to pack half myself up for a while. I suppose thats when the camera will be used moreso.
the video would not play :(
Carmen :))))

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Yay! just posted my first assignment off. Now time for play. The new gamemaking a poem from a found poem or piece of prose.
his one is from the found poem Die Lorelei, Heinrich Heine posted by Philip.


Of sorrow that fills
The air,
gleaming
In fading,
passing time.
Most wondrous, appealing
Enraptured with a wild ache,
I think by and by,
the waves
found poetry
I learned,
this..day.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

This doesn't seem to be working!

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Maria we don't want to work at it we want to;

Play

it's all child's play
i wouldn't have it
any other way
a least not today
when every moment
is fresh anew
with future and past
all askew
the game is now
here and forever
and played like there is
never
a never

Ed Meredith
13 September 2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

haha Ed, I meant FAA. My page would not load. I think the thread is working really well.

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Maria my mistake... LOL

When i read that "Not Working" post i made the assumption that you were disappointed at a perceived restraint in our posts
i also assumed that you preferred the "play" posted here would be pure like what we imagine or romanticize child's play to be…

i think child's play is serious stuff, after all it's the business of children and they only know that's what they do, and do it without any thought given…
their job i think is to experience the everything of everything in it's purest form of the new and surprised… "OMG THAT"S MY HAND!! - IT'S MINE, IT"S MINE!!!"
But the adult world unfortunately or maybe fortunately encroaches and places the pressures and insecurities of cultural and historical baggage of becoming a responsible Adult upon the child. and play changes for better or worse...
i think the job of the child within us all, is to resist being overcome by those influences and play in any form it can to keep the adult the child has become, curious, youthful, and content…
i play everyday, and if not always outwardly, i play within my mind with events and ordinary things (if there is such a thing as ordinary)… the world is magical and mysterious with so many things to discover…
yesterday/today/whenever, i played with icicles…

Art Prints

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

with that said... (A Work in Progress):


Playing With the Creation of Evolution
and The Same Sex Union Solution;

i thought it was child's play
when i played with clay today
clay i did persuade and made
a man of clay
today
and called him
Little Jim

with first breath of life
Little Jim asked me for a wife
what the hell is that i asked
"why someone just like me you see
to do the heavy tasks"

so i took a piece of Little Jim
and made another just like him
now Little Jim's partner i named Adam
and couldn't believe how Little Jim went at'm
i stepped back in such a fright
surprised i thought it was a fight
they rolled around upon the ground
making all these moaning sounds
well this is not a fight i surmised
when i saw Little Jim take Adam by surprise
soon they both fell limp and seemed so very spent
lying in each others arms loving and oh so content
as i watched them slumbering supine sublime
i questioned what's the purpose of my design
there seems to be a component missing
i thought when watching Little Jim and Adam pissing
maybe that should be the variant
make their plumbing a bit more different
but they seem so happy now together
oh what the hell i'll just keep them and make another
pair that is...

Ed Meredith
13 September 2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I loved your comments, ideas, icicles and that poem wow! I was there rolling in the clay too, watching little jim and Adam almost morph together as they fought. I love working with clay and enjoyed seeing you're spontaneous thoughts create jim and Adam and you're choice to leave them as they were. I couldn't help thinking what would happen if there had been no eve. Thanks for playing today :))))



"It's a human right to express oneself," wrote Crawley. "It's important to create things for no purpose other than the act of creation; it's good to not understand; it's OK not to make sense to everyone; it's fabulous to be confused. It's immensely liberating to let go of the either/or."

Read more: http://www.theage.com.au/federal-politics/society-and-culture/pondering-the-place-of-public-art-20100422-tehv.html#ixzz2chbneal7

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

he played with the idea of eating some fruit
he liked its shape
Its dimple
Its nipple
How it hung
how the sun shone on it
Its rosiness
What could he do with it
he bounced its branch
turned and looked at her
who smiled
and winked and dared
all play
She shook the tree
then so did he
but the fruit did not fall
they could not roll it along the floor
throw it, bat it, juggle it
'for sure'
she said if you pull its core
the minutes and the hours passed in play
for they
were in the first garden
and what are gardens for
but play
and getting hungry
and losing innocence
and finding sin


 

Mary Armstrong

10 Years Ago

LOOK FOR

When I wake up
each day

I look for yesterday

buried in the recesses

of a moment’s recollection.


Take away my caring tears

distribute them

into the folds of tomorrow.

Kiss away the sadness!

Bring back the threads

of joy,
gladness
and 
never ending creativity.

Mend that reaching arm

Cast out all 

which does not work as truth

Blend into all my surroundings

again.....

as if to find

oblivion

which is unending.

© MJOA, 2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Great poem Mary, allows us see that the memories of play stay with us and make us smile when it may feel like there is nothing much to smile about! So important that the children of today don't orget how to play, they are open to so much disturbing media.

 

SAIGON De Manila

10 Years Ago

This one is re posted after non-corporated posting in the other thread...
no offense really to the other profession..below is just an insight on the journey of life

The Choice

Would you rather be
A lawyer who screw his way to purgatory
or the geek that get high on the dormitory?
A humming fisherman lest he speak to the sea
as his soliloquy can turn fishes to bees.

Would you rather be
A fame doctor but will lost his license on a lawsuit
or the golfer aiming to his first green suit?
A student writing diary lest he loses his sanity
as his melancholy echoes through the university.

Would you rather be
A brave fireman that gave his lungs in ground zero
or a prized fighter breaking every jaws to be hero?
A father writing a possible mementoes for his children
as his last gems of thought when he got bed ridden.

Would you rather be
An engineer who cemented his fortune with bribery
or a decorated soldier riding on political machinery
A retiree collecting your memoirs against Parkinson's
as your hand trembles begging to die soon.

Would you rather be
A scholar with all earned knowledge published
or sports journalist hyping their heroes on PED?
An artist liberating his mind for the world to see
as he bare his soul for creative fancy.

Would you rather be
A monk without a bank loan except a grant in heaven
or a teacher living meanialy for other's chidlren?
A politician who's permanent interest outlive his term
as he swing his advocacy and never reaffirm.

Would you rather be
A God that divided men for its religion
or a brat rich kid that that just need attention?
An actor acted a hundred roles except himself
as his good deed is as fiction as that of an ellf?

Ah I would rather be
the man that I am and what I've chosen to become
or what i will still be when all others had gone.
An identity that forged by chances made not by destiny
or anyone lest to be just somebody not me.



©September 15, 2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Saigon, that was a great poem, looking from all angles even though some descriptions were stereotypical, I'm sure that you knew that....pity people sometimes take it personally, but I think it's always just exploration by all parties echoing. I have had this conversation often with Jason, about a poem becoming something else once somebody else interprets and is inspired or affected by it.. That's not your problem. ...or one for the receiver..it's just exploration.
Philip I listened to the video for a few seconds this morning and need to go back to it...it sounded beautiful...will get back to you...got study to do now..I am loving exploring sculptures for this next assignment so been out to a local gallery...the one where the photography prize was held...there were 3sculptures in the grounds, they didn't really excite but it will be a challenge writing 400 words on the experience. But reading up on sculptures I have come up with a few, I think, great ideas. Have you had a go at that painting yet?:)
Oh!Saigon, I will do the mother drawing in school holidays which begin next week..Yay!!!

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

r u me

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago



An exploration... tantalising... do we know the full extent of what we write or say?

illusions and confusions... the deep subconcious speaks silently in our waking hours as well as in our dreams ....

for we love to explore what is

and what is not

as we write!! and as we read!!

and as we dream in the sleeping hours!!

or not? to be... !!?


I should be... Less frivolous .. Write seriously..? I be in light of what I feel to see, for tis a moments fleeting, lost so easily.. Be the be!

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

am i u

 

Poe Ed

10 Years Ago

An echo to Jason's poem and thoughts.



Could i Be Less Serious In my Poetry?

now and then
i
write
something romantic
somewhat funny
somehow easy
and maybe
nice

i
wish
if i could be less serious by pretending that i were living on a paradise full of colourful flowers, song birds, and beautiful butterflies
so I could joyfully laugh at all times
and keep writing
about many
pleasant
things

unfortunately, i often could not turn my mind and my back away from the harsh reality
of
deaths
sickness
starvation
and sufferings
from man-made disasters by those control-freaks-in-power

i
know
for sure
whether
my poetry is nasty or nice
it don't make any slight difference to anyone
except
me

at least
it
helps me
vent some air
out of my congested chest

so i could easily float on the smooth surface of my day

Poe Ed
2013-09-17

 

Viet Tran

10 Years Ago

An echo to Philip's verse



Of Poetry and Paris

it would be possible for his love in both poetry and Paris to be alive in a world without words

he
could
silently
sit on a bench by the river Seine
hold her hands
look into her eyes
press her head on the left side of his chest
let her hear his trembled heart
and say nothing
on a foggy
day

or
he
could
rest his back on a chair at a street cafe in Montmartre
look up to the blue sky
and dream of
van Gogh's
starry
night

he could express his love for poetry and for the city of light from his heart
in complete stillness
without uttering
a single
word

Thao Chuong
2013-09-18

 

Poe Ed

10 Years Ago

To Whom It May Concern

i
try
to be
more frolic
and less serious
on the playground

but
maybe
i’m too nasty
in my own nature
i could play rough by frequently stepping on your toes and arrogantly not being aware of your touchy feelings

i
probably
make you feel
somewhat
uneasy
that
you’ve turned your face away
and drifted
further
away

i do hope the wind – north, south, east, west or northeast, northwest, southeast, southwest - regardless whichever the breeze could be
so long as it must blow your sailboat back toward my direction so you would come across my path again

could it be possible?
or
it is only
just a pipe-dream
of mine

Poe Ed
2013-09-20

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Sorry guys in the middle of second assignment but had to stop and send you this link for Scrap Wood City by James McNabb
http://www.curve-magazine.com/article.php?issueId=65&catId=11&articleId=325
Thats what I call creative play. I made a table in a woodwaork class last year now I am thinking scrap wood city all aroud the edges, or maybe something else scrap trees or scrap sculptures!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Well..I was so moved by Me BIRD that I had to just sit quiet for a minute before I could respond. A poetic echo came to me so quickly and flew so suddenly like the break in an electric current when all the lights go out and things stop whirring and there's silence, the silence of seeing yourself, and the tears of realisation come, and the background music makes it more heavily nostalgic, but real, a lost real, found, that you stop what you were just so engrossed in and you fall like dominoes at seeing your reflection......


can you hold on
to that
in the fleetingness of all things
all life
will you remember the importance of the sensation
of the reason
that smacked you in the face
and left you
dazed for a moment
you will forget..
you will
forget
and emptily forge ahead.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

When i put my first assignment in the tutor commented that some of my text was overpowering :))) and less poetry and more images of creating would be better. It made me realise how much writing I have done these past two years, especially poetry, and of course reading and enjoying everyone elses and the discussions about it. I will have to curb it a bit on my assignments but when I returned to have a peep today I was so filled up, or fulfilled by the work that was posted that I know I must never compromise it for anything. I am loving the play and research and investigations into sculpture and I have a great idea of marrying the two in a final design, but its still only an idea.
Thanks for keeping the thread going, I know it will tend to slide every now and then, but I hope it doesn't fall off altogether.
Viet, loved your poems, how you soul searched and spread your findings on the table and talked us through them...beautiful honest writing. I am so lucky to be able to share writing with you lot :))))
Philip, as always with your poetry, I am blown away by the depth that is seems to be when I also know that it is so true it can be nothing but crystal clear but its clearness lies in some midway channel like looking through some thin gauzy fabric and trying to read white words on white paper. I think if you just wrote one word, I would trust it to be meaningful and have great insight.
hey maybe we should try that.
Also I have an idea for some play.
Using just 3 names and three objects, we tell a story, or it could even end up as a poem, but we can only add one word each e.g,
tom, mary and elizabeth, objects, vase, cardigan and letter.
I begin, 'TOM"
Someone else might add, 'walked'
" " " " 'toward'
" " " " 'the'
" " " " 'LETTER

you have probably played this before....maybe we should allow two or three words to speed it up...

I'll begin with the names and objects. Pablo, Genevieve, Sam. Bird, letter and piano.
My first three words,

The BIRD settled....


 

Kathi Shotwell

10 Years Ago

Carmen... wow... !!

 

Viet Tran

10 Years Ago

An echo ....


The Wings

it�s
clearly
i�ve been complaining too much about the free-doom of expression
as if i were a bird having my wings clipped

of
course
off course
inside a little cage
i could no longer fly in the sunny sky
but who can prevent me from raising my strong voice and singing many beautiful songs without any restraint

furthermore,
whenever
i
see
her
sitting alone
at a table in a Kentucky outlet
and chewing something crunchy

I must know how lucky i�ve been
so
far
by now
my wings were not on her yummy plate

Thao Chuong
2013-09-21

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

each poem
is a bird
we first wrote
with its feathers
and the words follow
their flight
Look at your eyes
looking up there
for the right word
heart in the air
and when you feel it
the brushed air from
close beneath the light swoop of a wing above
like a breath
run over you
you write
its right
for you.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

poetry
a
loose
shoelace
waiting
waiting

 

Viet Tran

10 Years Ago

an echo to Philip`s echo

The World Within

after
all birds flew away
the sky fallen down and drowned into the crystal water of a lake
and everything else
around you
completely
vanished

only
your mind
remains
intact

could the outside world be in existence without you?

Thao Chuong
2013-09-21

 

Poe Ed

10 Years Ago

poetry
a
loose
shoelace
waiting
waiting

Maria Disley


An echo to Maria`s loose definition of poetry



Poetry and Shoelace

you`re somewhat confused about the correlation
between
poetry
and
your
shoelace

you could try to be a poet by just doing poet-try
you must be a sneaky cheater during a blackjack deal, if you loosen your shoelace to take a hidden ace from your shoe.

poetry
could
only
be
....
a
loose
shoelace
waiting
waiting
......
just to catch you red handed right on the spot

Poe Ed
2013-09-21

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

The Existential Bummer gives two ways of over coming the psychological effects of entropy;
1 - Detachment…
2 - Grasping/holding on to the moment tighter…
i think there is an another way, and that would be "Acceptance"… and through acceptance one may live the experience fully without the sadness and fear of loss.


My Existential Bummer:
Living Out of the Moment

step out of the moment
and thought will destroy it
bringing the end of things
robbing the true nature
and the oneness
of my experience
my being
my love

my love encompasses all things
without room
for the sadness of loss
in a future not yet realized
enjoy the moment
enjoy the love
the life
enjoy what is

Ed Meredith
22 September 2013

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

This is from Viet's thread, "What Lead(s) You To The Creative World? "
and i thought it should be posted here too...


Photography Prints

Self-discovery

he
often
tries to explore
the major difference between him and her
as he has never believed that god created the first man before he decided to take one of his cage-ribs and made the second human

he
looks at it
many times
again and again
in his self-discovery
and he has become aware
the flexible muscle is the only extra thing
she lacks
of

it
is
so tiny
in its size
nevertheless
somehow, its huge power couldn’t be underestimated
and somewhat, it magically defines his superior status and brings him endless joys in a male-dominated world

most
importantly
it gives him a masculine image
the likeness of god, of the god`s son, of many other wise men, and of endless male saints under god’s hands

women could hardly be respected in his dominant world - let alone their sweet feminine dream of gender equality

Thao Chuong
2013-09-20

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I love this thread! Even though I say it myself! Only because of its contributers. Did u realise we were all on the same page for a MOMENT there? A moment which I know I will let go of, maybe not even remember tomorrow, unless I write it down or say it out loud at least three times, apparantly that is a good way of remembering!.
Loved the video Philip...perfect...for now...I might watch it again sometime and wonder what it was that so had me....the moment is like sand falling through the hourglass...but maybe I will remember...that happens sometimes. It really made sense as to why we create....or should I say can't live without creating...everyday...because we know there are moments out there waiting to be found...shoelaces waiting to be tied...only to loosen and fall open and trip us up! :))
Lately I keep seeing these pages as feeding me..

I feel fed..
fat worms..
I know now
I need never go hungry
Except when you are hungry
I will go without
because I know
the artist makes
bread not dough.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Viet, your echo of my shoelaces poem really made me laugh...always up to mischief my friend!:)

I had a dream last night that I made myself remember this morning so I wouldn't forget. i was sitting at a table that I had in another house in England. I was making something probably a sculpture but it felt like cutting, my son's girlfriend was at the table too helping to cut something out of some material, we looked down at our work as we talked. her mother, who I have met just a couple of times was sitting in an easy chair but with her back to us, she was also helping by cutting something. I said to the girlfriend, I have just felt something, a mood stirring, something that you feel around this time of day,( it was around 3-4pm). She looked at me, blankly. just then her mother without turning her head to look at us said, 3am is the time that there is a mood in a day. Vinegar Hill, she said turning this time to face us.

I had heard once that people often die because they are at their lowest ebb at 3am. But it didn't make sense because in the dream it was 3pm. ( Hey maybe somewhere else in the world it was 3am!) also,I said to the mother, iremember Vinegar Hill, seamus Heaney spoke of it in one of his poems.

When i googled it today, i found that Vinegar Hill in Ireland is in Wexford, where my father's parents were from!! Then I found the poem of Heaney's titled The Croppy Boys and tells the tragic story of the death of the ordinary farmers of wexford being slaughtered by the English cavalry. The poignant part of the poem/fact
was that the yeoman's carried barley, as food on the run in the greatcoat pockets. A month after they had been killed, 1500 of them in one night on Vinegar hill, the barley had begun to grow from their pockets up through the earth.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Ed, love the sculpture and how it depicts investigation of existence :) and difference. :)
Notes on a shoelace.

The shoelace picture came to me when I was thinking about the poem that is read but not yet understood, when you are opening yourself to it and there's a moment/s of realisation but it comes quick then slow and sometimes not at all and you wait, accepting that it will either have to stay loose and open or you will manage to pull it together, but you know it will open again,
does that make sense?

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Yes Philip you are correct, i should have said no-attachment...
however i found Jason Silva a bit dismissive in the film when he defines the behavior of "no-attachment" as "pretending not to care"...


Thanks Maria... i have friends who think i spent to much time in that position... lol


Hide 'n Seek

finding
oneself by
losing oneself
how can one find
what can not be lost


22 September 2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago


ed, I suppose if we were/ I suppose we may well have been, on four legs, it would have been natural, I wonder what your sculpture would look like if you made it more abstract, so that the meaning wasn't so clear? It is a good resemblence by the way of your face I mean! :)) Your poem makes me revaluate the meaning of lost!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I think I've always liked that mix of poetry, discussion, related music, artwork....it has a really nice flow...allows you to let go. I have just been doing a lot of reading on site specific artwork, mainly sculptures, it was nice for one headful of ideas and images to flow into those on this thread. Reminded me of one of those paper weights with coloured oil and beads inside and as you tip one end everything merges together but there's no crashing or breaking up it just all works together.

Letting go
and merging
and flowing
and going
and leaving.....

Philip your poem reminded me of Motorcycle Diaries..about Che G. On the open road. Now that might be a good site specific to a work of art.
there's a great sculpture on the Eastlink road in Melbourne and because you are whizzing past you can't quite get to know it, it is a Hotel, by Callum Morton you should be able to google it. It has tremendous mood of lone people booking into remote hotels. So it is site specific because you can't get emotionally attached to it..

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

This has to be sung in your best Bob Dylan voice... lol

Feet of Clay

packed it up and headed west
on a bright and cloudy day
started out full of heart
but my feet were made of clay
traveled toward the sunset
heading for the east
didn’t know what what i'd find there
but i was hoping for some peace

wasn't sure what i was looking for
but i was watching for a sign
i was searching for my life
i was searching for my mind

now many miles
and special people
all along the way
they helped my life
they helped my mind
but not my feet of clay

here i stand now open wide
come and touch my heart
come and let me love you
and love me from the start

'cause i don’t know where I’m going
but I’m moving on from here
i turn around and see the sun
it’s staring in a mirror

Ed Meredith
1964

 

Evie Carrier

10 Years Ago

I find it said best by the Author of Peter Pan

Nothing is really work unless you would rather be doing something else.
― J.M. Barrie

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Traveling in Place

round trip one way
returned to start
with this to say
beginnings and ends
filled with mystery
still living the way
without answers
or questions

Ed Meredith
24 September 2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I let it go
My work
Light out now
On empty
Close it's door
Return to the world
Finding another kind of music
I love you, yes I do ...and
Tracks of my Tears...and
Truly....and
The Way You Do the Things You Do...
Feels like music is everything
And I'm a bad singer!

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago



The Goring and The Death or Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias," (1935) - Federico Garcia Lorca wrote about and for his beloved friend the well-known and excellent bull fighter, Mejias. The poem is a "deep song" of grief. He repeats the line "at five in the afternoon" 28 times in 52 lines, forecasting the bullfighter's death with each knell of the repeat. The poem is a metaphor for the Spanish Civil War, and an eerie foreshadowing of García Lorca's own tragic death two years later at the hands of the Franco's regime.



Not a great translation included in the video, the variations become clear if you simultaneously follow Andy...

At five in the afternoon.
It was just five in the afternoon.
A boy brought the white sheet
at five in the afternoon.
A basket of lime made ready
at five in the afternoon.
The rest was death and only death
at five in the afternoon.

The wind blew the cotton wool away
at five in the afternoon.
And oxide scattered nickel and glass
at five in the afternoon.
Now the dove and the leopard fight
at five in the afternoon.
And a thigh with a desolate horn
at five in the afternoon.
The bass-pipe sound began
at five in the afternoon.
The bells of arsenic, the smoke
at five in the afternoon.
Silent crowds on corners
at five in the afternoon.
And only the bull with risen heart!
at five in the afternoon.
When the snow-sweat appeared
at five in the afternoon.
when the arena was splashed with iodine
at five in the afternoon.
death laid its eggs in the wound
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.
At just five in the afternoon.

A coffin on wheels for his bed
at five in the afternoon.
Bones and flutes sound in his ear
at five in the afternoon.
Now the bull bellows on his brow
at five in the afternoon.
The room glows with agony
at five in the afternoon.
Now out of distance gangrene comes
at five in the afternoon.
Trumpets of lilies for the green groin
at five in the afternoon.
Wounds burning like suns
at five in the afternoon,
and the people smashing windows
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.
Ay, what a fearful five in the afternoon!
It was five on every clock!
It was five of a dark afternoon!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

HELLO!!! OXO!!! Nice to hear from you..but why such a sombre poem? Although I suppose mine wasn't so cheerful. I think the repetitiveness in this poem really works, I think that every time I see or hear the clock strike 5 I will think of the Spanish Civil War!!! Like the image of Guernica does. Yes, I think it is that powerful. So what are you up to and how is England treating you and your family?:)

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

impartial natures which the tongue can but clumsily define' like this phrase. I will find a link for you for Hotel, I would copy it but I hate having to download everything to my page fill in all the details etc, too time consuming. is there another way of posting an image from internet onto here?

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

A trip on EastLink will cost, but it'll be a cultural experience

link address. http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=Hotel+eastlink+sculpture&qs=n&form=QBIR&pq=hotel+eastlink+sculpture&sc=0-0&sp=-1&sk=


Email
Printer friendly version
Normal font
Large font


Gabriella Coslovich
November 28, 2007



Advertisement

MELBOURNE's reputation as a city possessed by the arts was strengthened yesterday as the EastLink Freeway's $5.5 million public art collection was unveiled.

Motorists may well have to pay to use the freeway, scheduled to open next year, but as they career along it they will be privy to a free roadside sculpture gallery. And we're not talking easy-to-digest, namby-pamby art. Four enormous art works have been deliberately chosen to provoke.

Designed by some of Australia's most collectable artists, the four giant sculptures will be located along the 39-kilometre stretch of road linking Donvale to Frankston. Among them are a fake hotel, a huge blackbird about to eat a hard-edged yellow worm, a massive metal object that looks like a fallen rocket or a tower, and a 30-metre chain of blue, green and white ellipsoids that have already been nicknamed the smarties.

If you think that sounds weird, perfect. The people behind the project are eager to court controversy.

"Not everyone will like it, and that's what contemporary art is about. And that's what distinguishes Melbourne as a city, pushing the envelope, and always exciting," said Tony Shepherd, chairman of ConnectEast, the private owner and operator of EastLink.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Oh I see! I'll look again for address.
It shows the exact spot but I cant get a close up of it on the side of the road. for the map
Eastlink Hotel Sculpture
Ordish Rd Dandenong South
Vic 3175
let me know if you get a good birds eye view of it

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Anish kapoor video..what a great time he must have had playing with this idea and construction!
It touches on form..as in Philip's interpretation...I think..please comment Philip.

Anish Kapoor Marsyas 2002 theEYE:Anish Kapoor

In October 2002 Anish Kapoor completed his extraordinary sculpture Marsyas for The Unilever Series of commissions in the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern, London. A

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Oxo, just listened to the poem Wow! Powerful stuff. Is this just a poem on its own or is this part of a movie? I was reading, a few months back, George Orwell's 1984 and on further exploration found that he was in Spain during the war. As is usual, I didn't get around to reading all of the text but will pick it up again now as I am really interested in his descriptions of his time there, his experiences of a dictatorship were later evident in 1984..

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Tell me what is going on in your garden today. Have you even been out there? Do you have a garden? If not what is in place of it, do you pass a garden regularly, do you spend time in it. It may just be a single flower in a pot which you have to care for.
I took the dog outside into the garden. The grapefruits and tangerines are ripening and the lemon blossoms are full of scent. of course their trunks are almost knee high in grass...nice!
Though it needs mowing I like the wild natural look! Everything needs pruning, clearing, fixing, but it is spring, and the weather is perfect...and motivating. I'd like to be a consistent gardener but I'm not. I have managed to grow some herbs in pots, they seem to be flourishing. But, I am forgetting about play!! The dog knows how to play, running rings around me with an old bone hanging from her jaws. I played with my camera trying to catch evidence of Spring and the dog, the expert at games.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Philip on your scrap wood theme I was thinking boulders, and your little men trying to move them :))

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Art Prints



An echo to Mary Armstrong's wonderful drawing.

Old Man

The stitching on your cuffs runs like a long and winding road
Over your nestling of wool,
Your clothing a feathered nest,
A home to wander in,
To keep out the harsh iced air.
So faraway your eyes
Too far for me...
I can barely look, but stare,
Eyes like traversed swamps ploughed and sometime past, bright with new life, sown then undone and barren…
I don’t mind your sigh at my unearthly misunderstandings,
At attempting to climb into your skin and feel the rhythm of your quiet heart, which your eyes tell me it's not, will never be….
Do you remember a garden once!? Moments, like bees visiting stamens?
Or have they gone too?
Pull your collar up mate..there!
What do you see in my eyes? Don’t tell me, for I see every father in your wearied face and fathers never want to spoil things with truth, yet we read it anyway in eyes like yours.
I wish…
I wish…

Maria Disley 29/9/2014

 

SAIGON De Manila

10 Years Ago

A solemn sympathy to Ghanian Poet died in KENYAN Mall tragedy.

KOFI AWOONOR

(aka George Awoonor-Williams)
1935 – 2013

http://graphic.com.gh/images/stories/Kofi%20Awoonor.jpg



 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Philip, as I have been discovering materials used for sculptures, I first thought corton steel, for your boulder idea, as when I investigated some sculptures that I thought monolithic and heavily solid were actually hollow corton steel, which made a beautiful unexpected echoing. sound when rapped with the knuckles ( the boulder could cry!) But as this may still be a trial for you to build and weld, I came up with an idea. A few years ago when I was in a yr 9 class, and sadly, ceramics had been struck off the timetable for them, probably due to cost, they had to resort to working with papier mache. At first I thought that what I would come up with would be pretty rough looking but was really surprised at the potential of the material. You could do this and make it as big as you wanted then paint it. infact it would work in your favour, the rougher looking the better.. hey! Just thought, if you did it in papier mache you could place inside of it one of those crying devices that they use for crying dolls, of course the boulder would have to be able to move slightly. Also, something that one of students on the course did, he made a beautiful curved maquette made from layers of balsar wood, this could work with balsa wood being so light.

The poem was interesting as I started a poem last night after sitting in the carwash. My mind wandered when the song Danny Boy, came on the cd. I saw, in my mind, my dad, that was a fav song of his. And while it is emotional for me, I was experiencing it differently, I was more aware of time and space and how, I don't know how, images and feelings can have a place somewhere in some other form, invisible and different to pure imagination or ideas, and I wondered what this form was. I tried to put it into the form of a poem but had to keep deleting it as I couldn't encapsulate the experience, infact this expanation is the closest I have gotten, which your crying boulder reminded me of and had me try and explain.
I am not sure that any of that makes sense to anyone who is reading this. But, the boulder almost seems to abstractly be a form for its expression. Interestingly more solidly in these lines,

' the night shared wisdom
unmoved for centuries '

On some other plane in time and space....unmoved for years... there is something shared without form.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Kofi Awoonor, the Ghanaian Poet Killed in Westgate Mall Attack
by Michael Daly Sep 24, 2013 5:45 AM EDT
http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2013/09/24/kofi-awoonor-the-ghanaian-poet-killed-in-westgate-mall-attack.html


A measure of what the murderers had not been able to kill came with a tweet by Kahumbu on Monday. She announced that there would be a memorial at the National Museum in Nairobi that night for the one and only Kofi Awoonor, the poet who was the very opposite of a terrorist.


“Bring a candle,” Kahumbu tweeted.

Sell Art Online


I wasn't aware of the poet being killed Saigon, thanks for posting and once again your painting is called for. A quote from the newspaper article.

'Kofi Awoonor was the very opposite of the terrorists who killed him.


He was not a destroyer seeking to become exceptional by killing.


He was a creator who achieved worldwide renown by writing poetry'


 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Sunday Visit
By Christy Brown

We finally found him
curled up in the chair like a many-wrinkled shell
staring blindly out at nothing
among a gathering of imbecilic fossils
his one good eye fastening fiercely onto life
the hair still sturdy though silver under the old cloth cap.

We finally found him
through all that terrible labyrinth of grey concrete cells
quietly rounding out his days
alone in a morass of moronic camaraderie
his doomed cellmates snoozing and snoring all around
and he with his one good eye defying the shadows.

The tears came then
not soft, but real
the tears of a real man broken by life
groping wildly with gnarled fingers at the straws of life
in that awful room of no life
and the television set blaring forth its banalities
drowning whatever words of comfort our futile tongues could offer.

I had no words for him
no words to span the heartbreak of years
when Samson-like he had stood between us and chaos
bringing to us the small rare trinkets of his love.
I had for him only whiskey
the old bitter gift
the poor tribute of one poorer in spirit
than that jaded near-blind half-deaf soul reclining so tamely
in a wicker chair
in a ward of fearful paralysing resignation
a ward full of already dead people
sleeping as the television blared.

Yet the hand that gripped mine spelled out love
and the raw lovely courage of that old landscaped face
put my feeble pity to shame


My response.

A piece of chalk
fighting, loving family talk
freed
the beautiful service of the mind
from a determined soul
one piece of chalk
a couple of toes
opened the floodgates
released the prisoned woes
grammar came later
aided by technology
and a beautiful
soul was spread across the pages
and screen
for a dumbfounded world
to be seen.

Maria Disley 2/10/2013

 

SAIGON De Manila

10 Years Ago

Wow two powerful poem!

A riveting piece by Christy Brown and Maria's equally compelling "response".
for a while I found myself trapped in that visual and emotionally drenching scene only to withdraw
as if am a camera man who would not be perturbed by any means as the jobcalls for, not gnaw of affected weak heart witness.

Thank you Maria of sharing this.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Saigon, have you seen the movie or read the book? if not it is a must. Inspiring for a teacher especially.Chrisy was actually writing about himself in the poem. Just incase you don't know of him.

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Hello Jason.

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

Hi Maria, soz, had to put what i wrote back into WIP. lol, these things happen..

should have left the rest of the post up... anyways it was national poetry day in the UK yesterday, i saw this on twitter and it made me laugh -

Mart Gottschalk ‏@GottschalkMart 22h

"If yer gonna be a poet
Ya really gotta know it:
If the bugger doesn't rhyme
It's waste of f*ckin time
#NationalPoetryDay"

to which i said

Lol, let's hope not...
Rhyming can be contriving
but often fun and when it's done ,
right,
can be contritely ,
bright..
Just outta my sights

lol

er ok thats enuf, stuff, im buzzing off, laters...

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

:))) Don't know if they have a national poetry day in Australia..have to check that one out.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Sell Art Online


Another echo to Saigon's image and thoughts.

Written in the Dust..

Let me draw on your wing
dull moth,
allow me to sign my name
for eternity
in gold or silver ink,
but you hover nervously toward the light,
as I,
together
we will soon turn to dust
but while there's time
sit contemplative on some
lit window
and let me...
let me colour you beautiful
with my soul ink
for all the world to see
as you journey
through time zones
before we both
drop in dust.

Maria Disley 5/10/2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

x2

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Life is sometimes
all but some sweet silhouettes
passing in time..
Snatch them!

 

Poe Ed

10 Years Ago

Rhyme Or No Rhyme (To all poets on the UK’s National Poetry Day)

it’s more or less
life is a mess
please take your time
to make it rhyme

for those poems
its good for them
just use a sword
chop those damned words
make a bonfire
for winter nites

why do you mind?
her eyes are blind
the world is deaf
like a dull leaf
the rest’s fucked up
with their own cup

no one would care
no one would dare
challenge poets
nothing we get
no one would gain
nothing would change

it rhymes or not
it’s a hot pot
to cook poems
yummy for ‘em

where is U Kay?
what’s poetry?
what day is it?
I must admit
I love poems
could I join ‘em?


Poe Ed
2013-10-04

 

SAIGON De Manila

10 Years Ago

Wow two (2) echoes for my work and an irresistible poem from Senor Viet Tran! Thank you all!

 

Poe Ed

10 Years Ago

An Unrhymed World

am I crazy?
it ain’t cozy
playing with both
those fatal swords
and spiky words

a samurai
not in right mind
can chop his life
and a poet
in his bad mood
could lose his head

what is the heck
why i expect
in my poems
everything would rhyme
in good rhythms

i take those words
out of my sight
i throw sharp swords
no cruel fights

is it O Kay?
i keep my way
you make your day
whether it rhymes
or it's un-rhymed

Poe Ed
2013-10-05

 

Viet Tran

10 Years Ago

Life is sometimes
all but some sweet silhouettes
passing in time..
Snatch them!

Maria Disley

An echo to Maria’s verse


Life In Motion

on
the stream
of passing time
life could be all, something, or nothing
depending on
what one could take
and how much air one would inhale
from
it

in
its
essence
life is neutral
it
gives
neither sweet
nor bitter
tastes

so breathe every instant of the galloping time
and totally ignore
any dark
shadow
of it

Thao Chuong
2013-10-06

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Viet, I am reading with interest your recent poetry. At the same time I am creating a 3d canvas using recycled materials if poss. plastic cups etc. FYI there's a white canvas with an assortment of plastic cups placed on top. I am arranging and rearranging...and thinking about the poetry..some of the small cups have fallen over...natural I am thinking...its a mish mash at the moment but I hope something comes out of it...will post when its finished :))
Ah! maybe I should put a silhouette at the bottom of each cup? Hmmm! Maybe a silhouette of poet friends..that would be saying something...I may keep adding to this post.... If anyone of the poets would like to send a silhouette of themselves I could shrink it and try it out..

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Hahahahahahahaha Never seen it before! After about 2 minutes I thought, 'what is this baloney! But, thought it must be something worth watching for Philip to post. I lost a bit while cooking, returned and saw a man with no legs, so rewound it, and from then on was just captivated....then burst out laughing at the truth...and nostalgia...thanks for that lovely disruption. :))

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

GONE

Mosquitos at dusk
as cold green leaves brushed against our faces
in strange streets
no wheels
we took long walks after dinner
walking off grief
wearing out our souls
as mosquitos sauntered and bit!
stone faced
my arms encircled the earth
to pick hawthorn from English summer hedgerows
I could smell them 4,000 miles away


Maria Disley 8/10/13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

The bus rails upstairs on the double decker
shone grubby under the light
he steadied her on the spiral staircase
held her waist
as the bus brakes screamed softly to a stop.
Secretly, saying goodnight in the recess of the hawthorn hedge,
a last cigarette,
a kiss
as the fog sailed between the trees
lighting up the glistening concrete
at their romantic feet,
the fog drifted
revealed him,
a billow of gusted grey hair
a furied face,
and a road between them.
He'd caught her red handed,
blind to innocence,
and the boy ran.
And the old man in an instant
felt his own youth
rebel
tearing at his guts.

 

Viet Tran

10 Years Ago

@ Philip and Maria.
I enjoyed the awesome video and romantic poems. Thanks for sharing


Two Minutes In A Life

trapped
under water
he held his breath about two minutes
but it last forever

at
the very
last second
he was panic
as he ran out of air in his congested chest
if he had had an extra two minutes to untangle the trapping rope around his waist
he would have been
alive
by
now

two
minutes
it's not too long
and doesn't seem too much
just enough to burn a cigarette

it's ironic
man often wastes his lifetime for many nonsense things - he really don't need
yet, he always complains
he has no time
for anything

what man probably needs in life is but
a two minutes extra
to save his last
breath

Thao Chuong
2013-10-08

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Very effective last stanza Viet! :)




Infront of words
and behind them
are more words
in different languages
inaccessible.
unalignible
shadows
glimpsed
only in the stutter, the lisp, the Freudian slip,
The subconscious is alerted
but can do nothing
except, leave it be
and move on
in the shiver of the transparent shadow
and wonder who is the trespasser?

 

OUT IN THE COUNTRY

Far from the fast pace of the city lights.
Out in the country, a family enjoys the perfect life.

A husband and wife, with two precious gifts from above.
Chose a life in the country to raise their family with love.

Tho city folk think they have the world in their hands.
A country family is at peace, living out on God’s land.

A day in the country begins long before the sun.
With children that rise early, looking forward to a day of fun.

Out in the country there is always work to be done.
But they do it together and the kids have room to run.

Boys work side by side with their dads through the day.
Learning skills and life lessons, mixed with a little fun and play.

Girls bond with their moms, learning how to primp, cook and sew.
But most of the time, they just want to saddle their horse and go.

Kids raised in the country have pure minds and hearts.
They’re taught hard work and honesty, traits that set them apart.

Girls raised in the country chase horses instead of boys.
And boys invent games, instead of begging for toys.

They’re content with what they have because their home is filled with love.
Their family has a solid foundation, because they live according to God above.

Kids will be kids and they can all find trouble.
You just pray you raised them right, and be there when they stumble.

Country folk watch their kids grow and consider themselves lucky.
To have polite, loving kids…..
that were raised in the country.

 

WRANGLER SENSE
I'VE NEVER GIVEN MUCH THOUGHT TO FASHION AND TREND
SOME SAY CLOTHES MAKE A MAN, SO THEY MIX, MATCH AND BLEND

I HAVE NEVER UNDERSTOOD WHAT ALL THE FUSS IS ABOUT
FOLKS SPEND HOURS GETTING DRESSED BEFORE THEY LEAVE TO GO OUT

NOW OUT ON THE RANCH WE HAVE A SLIGHT DIFFERENT VIEW
OUR CLOTHES ARE MADE FOR WORKING, DESIGNED FOR THE WORK WE DO

ALL MEN PUT ON THEIR PANTS ONE LEG AT A TIME EACH DAY
BUT IT SEEMS MINE WERE MADE TO FIT IN A MORE COMMON SENSE WAY

THESE YOUNGIN'S WALK AROUND IN THE ODDEST THINGS I EVER SAW
WITH THEIR PANTS WASTES DEFYING ALL OF GRAVITIES LAWS

AND THE CROTCH HANGING DOWN CLEAR TO THE BACKS OF THEIR KNEES
SHOWING MORE OF THEIR REARS, THEN A MAN CARES TO SEE

I PONDER IN MY HEAD, HOW THESE YOUNGIN'S GET THROUGH A DAY
HOW CAN THEY GET ANYTHING DONE, WITH THEIR PANTS FITTING THAT WAY

NOW OUT ON THE RANCH WE WEAR OUR PANTS LIKE A MAN SHOULD
WEARIN' ANYTHING BUT WRANGLERS, A WORKING COWBOY NEVER WOULD

THO WOMEN SEE IT DIFFERENT THE TERM COWBOY CUT
HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HOW THEY FIT MY BUTT

THEY FIT LIKE A GLOVE TO PROTECT WHAT I'VE GOT
I WONT ELABORATE, YOU CAN JUST GIVE IT SOME THOUGHT

THE RIDE CAN SOMETIMES BE ROUGH, WHEN I'M OUT ON MY HORSE
IF I HAD ON BAGGY PANTS, THE RIDE SURE WOULD BE WORSE

OUT ON THE RANCH WE'RE SURROUNDED BY BARBED FENCE
THAT I HAVE TO CLIMB OVER SO TIGHT PANTS MAKE SENSE

WHEN YOU FACE A BARBED FENCE WITH LEGS THAT LACK AN INCH OF CLEARANCE
WEARING PANTS WITH A SAGGY CROTCH, COULD ALLOW PAINFUL INTERFERENCE

THERE ARE TIMES ON THE RANCH A MAN MUST MOVE WITH GREAT SPEED
LIKE WHEN A MEAN MOMMA COW RUNS HIM DOWN AND HAS HIM TREE'D

I SURE DON'T NEED BURDENED WITH PANTS THAT FIT LIKE A SACK
CUZ I'D LIKELY HAVE THAT MOMMA COW STOMPING MY BACK

I THINK OF THOSE WORDS "THE CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN"
WELL MY COWBOY CUT WRANGLERS INSURE THAT I STAY A MAN!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Thanks Michelle for the descriptive poetry on country life you obviously wouldn't change it for anything!:))

When the hammer hits the nail
driving it underground into the vault of the wood
its head
aches
but its strength
holds the wood
that is its job..
Soon the wood splits
is weathered
and the nail rusts
and is replaced.

Maria Disley 13/10/2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Safe

Barbed wire runs for miles across fields and meadows up and down hills,
I watch the caught animal hair blow in the breeze
The red tip of the barb
that carved its warning into its flesh
DANGER KEEP OUT
The dumb animals skip away to safer pastures
but never forget the scars
of their masters making
for their safety.


Maria Disley 13/10/2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Sell Art Online





The free birds screech and caw and sing
in the trees around the field
the dogs howl, long slow and hungry
like ships coming into the harbour on foggy nights
every town or village hears
they know
but hardly stir
indifference
fills the air,
like an age old dawn.

Maria Disley 13/10/2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Echoing Michelle's love of the country life and Philip's amazing posts of Gaea.


The sound of it
lies in the curves of a conch shell,
murmuring nature,
holding her echoes of the wayward lamb's cry
on the cliff edge,
her lighthouse love songs
her yearnings
The sounds that words spoil
upon mother nature's soil.

Maria Disley 13/10/2013

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Blue Moon Senyru

the last moon i saw
was as blue as blue can be
but then so was i


Art Prints

 
 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

http://youtu.be/vG16V1OAwMI

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

http://youtu.be/MOFIwO3e_cc

Ed, after treble posting, it was interesting listening to all the different versions of blue moon. never listened to this guy before, though I have heard his name. I like this version too.
What a sensitive soul to post your blue moon poem :)

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Ah yes Mel Tormé the "Velvet Fog"... he was still on the jukeboxes when when i was a teenager...

 

Dear Ed....I'm worried about you. You're not looking well.........

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Sorry didn't mean to make you feel older than you were feeling..seems like I can't say anything right today..:)) but that photo of you in Viet's new book OMG you are so handsome!:))

 

This discussion is closed.