In the spirit of my poet friend, Robert Okaji, at O at the Edges , I am going to repost 1 of my most visited poems from 2020 everyday this week leading up to the New Year. After all, this is the time of year we spend regenerating, hibernating and reflecting; and man o’ man, did we go through a lot this past year!
The photo for this week’s prompt was taken on my doorstep at dawn as the year turns. Time seems to be running away with me this week and I somehow managed to ‘lose’ a day… Which explains why I was late with reading all the posts this week.
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Thank you to everyone who took part, visited or reblogged the posts or left comments for their authors. A new prompt will be published later today. As always, I will reblog as many contributions as space and time allows as they come in… and all of them will be featured in the round-up next Thursday.
All the posts are listed below, so please click on the links below to read them and leave a comment for…
This artwork was created at the time I met and fell in love with my wife. She was so beautiful to me and she was very into yoga at the time so this oil pastel was my very first gift I gave her. This poem is coupled with it as visual inspiration.
Frustration is an unsettling feeling, undoubtedly.
For years I’ve dappled in poetry and blogging. I’ve been skirting the edges of this craft (this art form) since my early days in Art School. Today I feel a calling, a force within, a palpable frustration in my need to write. Why?
Perhaps it is the voice in my head shouting at me to speak! Periodically afraid to voice my opinion in written format has been directly linked to my fear of commitment. AHA!
I literally was just informed of this by that voice in my head again. LOL! I perplex myself at the same time as finding myself quite brilliant. Seriously, I fear committing to an opinion or “story” as I might have to act on something. Well, at least that is the silliness I tell myself. I want to remain open I think, as an artist I should be open. This is the battle, the battle for clarity and fair-mindedness that stalks my psyche. Strange? I know. Stranger things there are though, ’cause people are their own worst critics.
And storytelling (by the way) is an ancient art form that has been handed down through our bloodlines, our bones. It’s a natural human condition (in my belief) that relay’s messages from within. To seek and tell one’s story, or to be sought out by our inner voice to tell one’s story. Poetry grabbed a hold of me the same way. I heard voices in my head (over and over) that wouldn’t shut up. I felt compelled to grab a notebook and pencil. Lo’ and behold — poetry spilled out. I felt possessed. Mesmerized, I didn’t stop for several years. Same as my urge to pick up a brush and paint suddenly — telling a story visually, expressing an emotion, depicting a scene. No different.
Photo by Genaro Servín from Pexels
Back to Frustration. Frustration about pivoting my art form. Where do I start? I know other artist’s and writer’s have the same problem. Painter’s stare at blank canvasses, as writer’s stare at blank pages. So it goes. To pivot or not to pivot? That is my question.
I want to master my pivoting. If I can master the pivot, I can effortlessly succeed. Right?
Frustration will cease to exist if I just pivot from it — Ha! (In fantasy world) Frustration is key to understanding my story — understanding the road to take, the story to tell. Pivoting is part of creating. Sometimes tackling the beast of frustration to the ground, is how I proceed with creation. Frustration/Creation. Sounds good to me. I’ve learned to listen to the voices in my head. So, I forge forward. I write. I paint. I pontificate. And I frustrate. But I create, and that is what I live for. Now…what should I write?
