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Wrought

Wrought

 

A new way of thinking

That’s what we make

Well, we make the frame

The content of new thinking

Is up to you

Which I mean in the best way possible

Fantastic responsibility

To move yourself

And your people

Forward

 

Maybe help with the first of these

So many layers added al the time

 

There was gray light

And I turned it on, and the lamp

The bulb

Changed light to gold

Like Rumpelstiltskin’s straw

 

It might rain

It might be on the way

We’ve had some downpours recently

But the forecaster says that

Our water table’s low

 

Good time for participation

For new things to fall

To wash the world some

Offering nourishment to the ground

And those who live upon it

 

It means grayness continues

Though we can have better light against

The darkness

Through craft

And letting go the work

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by Raheel Shakeel from Pixabay

 

Found Art

Found Art

 

My sister’s shop

Is cool, if you like old things

I do

Actually, she’s moved it home

Closed up her vendor site

And now is selling though an auction

Place up the road

It’s working well

 

The shelves with all the items on

Them are now

In the guest room

I’m surrounded

 

By a bunny mold with eyes that have

No pupils (they would be added in the icing

once the cake is made), yet it somehow stares at me

There are cordial glasses

Old-style mason jars

Filled with marbles

Or shells found on beaches long ago

Nancy Drews

And cookbooks

Cameras that take film and mild-blue flash bulbs

She tells me they all function, still

 

But what I see everywhere is

Anthropomorphizing

Like the rabbit without eyes who looks at me

Pig, mole, gnomes, more pigs

(she likes pigs)

Dogs, Santa Claus

Unliving metal, porcelain, and glass

All made into living things

Representation

I have lots of company in this room

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Mario Calvo on Unsplash

 

Want Adds

Want Adds

 

“we are seeking talented, enthusiastic individuals who are ambitious and hungry to grow”

 

Why can’t anyone

Be seeking laid-back

People who like to write

Poetry and to live

Like hobbits?

 

It gets worse

The ones on board are dressed in black

Or maybe deep, deep gray

They have many, smiling tiny teeth, maybe in many

Rows like sharks

They’d have slow-moving fish like

Me for lunch

 

Wanted—someone who likes art

And history

Someone who reads novels for lunch

Someone who eschews the necktie

The power whatever-else to wear

(female or male)

But who is loyalty

By default created

Who loves patterns and textures that

Go so far down and up so high

 

Who dreams

Who wants others to dream

The kind of dream that makes us real

If you have a job

Like that, please post it

Or maybe forget that and dial or

Wire me directly

(sorry, text or click

 

but) If you light a bonfire on a hill, that

Might do

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

 

Pastiche

Pastiche

 

A mélange of media

Rococo

Painting leaps out of sculpture

Plaster writhes from metal into stone,

Lurks in upper corners

I don’t know how much we make of this

(the making and interpreting)

These days,

Though steampunk runs some tries at this,

I think

(and really well)

 

I remember pictures from a textbook

I doubt I’ll get to Spain to see

Just past the golden age

But I appreciate the media

Mixing up to make a life

Yours, mine, and ours

McLuhan notwithstanding,

We are the message

We go through the doors

Then rise

And all the art we’ve made

 

C L Couch

 

 

Prettysleepy2

https://pixabay.com/en/steampunk-gears-pipes-brass-door-3222894/

 

 

Tenth Muse

Tenth Muse

 

Nine muses

For the Greeks,

A tenth muse

For Filipinos

And for me

Grace and gift

 

I aspire toward

Invocation

 

If paraluman

Visit and illumine

 

Then I shall, in

Turn, be filled

With art from

 

Philippine spirit

 

I could not

Ask for more

Than far-off

Soul-wind

Breathe on me

 

Word-High July: Welcome!

Maria of Doodles and Scribbles and I [that’s Rosema at rosemawrites] are more than excited to read your takes on the 30 Beautiful Filipino Words.

  1. Write or create a post inspired or about the Filipino word prompts.
  2. A post can be anything. A poem, a fiction, a six-word tale, or even a photo. It’s all up to you.
  3. Linkback/create a pingback to this post: Word-High July 30 Beautiful Filipino Words. Here is a quick tutorial on how to do a pingback.
  4. Tag your post with WordHighJuly, so your co-bloggers will be able to read/see your take on the prompt. Here’s how you create tags.
  5. Most important of all, read and comment to your blogger friends (old and new found, we’ll never know).

HOP ON and let’s all GET WORD-HIGH this JULY!

Art in Anxious Time

Art in Anxious Time

 

I’m anxious and it’s

hard to write

 

art expressed in pain:

I don’t know how

those artists do it

 

maybe it’s big fear

and nihilistic agony

that keeps them

going, that prompts

expression that might

change the world

and everything

beyond

 

the gardeners at

Hiroshima and

Nagasaki must

accomplish this

 

I have small pains

and many things that

trouble me—yes,

sometimes they are

bad as in raw—

unformed, unfixed,

 

though I think the

only one that might

be changed through

treating these in art

is me

 

still, through all

the small-town

clay-house conflicts

I might strive to

express something

new

 

something that might

relate to you

 

 

 

(the teacher and good

sport in me should tell

you that clay house

is a Puritan metaphor)

for my poem friends, then all the rest

ISIS doesn’t like the arts

The terrorists brought down marvels
in ancient statues and friezes, having
murdered the curator defending these

and having no gun. They fired with guns
into a Paris concert venue, while the music
played and fans were sinuously in

tune, young ones with blissful
countenance and their own song. For this
was Friday night, and love for music

elevates. “They don’t like music,” Bono
claims, and he is right—art and
beauty have no place

in the terrorist agenda. So
dangerous must be the muse’s power
to prod a people into thinking and loving

with all art’s inspiration. So
much is beauty feared in the
mad-monger’s eye that it must be

demolished. And so we must see straight
and straighter. Protect our people, fight
back, and preserve our beloved and unique

intuitions and expressions. We must
remember, too, this is not a war on
Islam, whose tenets teach welcoming

and prayer. But what we make—which
is the poem’s meaning, that is, to
make—is taken now as part of who

we are. Life is better. Yet art moves
the heart, wakes up the mind: opening
our better selves. This terrorizes terror.

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