“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label white page. Show all posts
Showing posts with label white page. Show all posts
Thursday, October 3, 2019
Implementation
This pen writhes
hisses and spits
poison darts
from the bow of my fingertips.
I wrestle and choke
it down
on an empty
page
the feeling bleeds through
the collected pulp
smearing the white sheet.
Against bone,
the pressure to cave in
begins
at the first period.
Etching the paper
so that complete erasure
is not an option. I strangle
the words, Go On,
in the process.
Artwork credited by Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, 17th-19th century [Public domain].
Monday, May 25, 2015
Splashing the Page with White #FFFFFF
“You did it”- may be
the most beautiful three
words to an artist.
He called it “A Triumph-
(of beautifying the vileness
of the stark white pallid page,
perhaps)”-
I have won the battle with me,
'twas said by the Socratic referee.
What was thought could only hide-,
in the dark recesses of the mind,
now Outside,
of Self,
for all to See,
and breathe on its own a-chord
I hope-
is struck.
See-
Poetry is Pleasure, it’s sensuous he says.
Who else can stop and savor
the moments the infatuated way
of the artist outside on a clear day-
pushing clouds with eyelids away,
strobes that penetrate the stratosphere,
with noses like bloodhounds,
driven by the scent, like life-
to try and die anyway, coming and going,
something to live for,
because without it I would die, mused
the sensual Nin, whose romantic endings become
Beginnings,
all anew.
Like childhood magic is artistic inspiration,
I made myself believe in fairytales,
and storybook endings.
Old mossy castles surrounded by fog,
turrets of ideas poking through.
Atop blooming mountains where one can go
Dancing to the music at the great
Balls for the Brain;
Libraries, lullabies and lovely lyrics,
how lovely to lose you in the song
on the page, or public stage.
Art takes nerve, letting some stranger,
whisper sweet unintelligible
nothings
nothings
in your ear.
So, an artist tells you what they hear,
or tries-(facing fear)
or tries-(facing fear)
the best way they know how.
Spilling ink, blood, tears, sand, oil, sweat,
love, pain, hope, desire, fear and regret,
Yet-
most people prefer the color of
Perception or commonly called white
(allowing for muted undertones).
White is a color, the perception of which is evoked by light that stimulates all three types of color sensitive cone cells in the human eye in equal amounts and with high brightness compared to the surroundings. A white visual stimulation will be void of hue and grayness. White is the lightest possible color.Defined as: #FFFFFF
Image By Mlaoxve [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Oil painting palette.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
And then...
Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign, at first...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...