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Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

A Little Word Art

I am feeling kind of wiped out today so there'll be no non-stop rambling and bitching. It's too hot out to rant. It's been so freaking warm and sunny here that I might have to get a darker shade of foundation... Anyway, I just wanted to share some poetry with you. I mentioned both poets in a previously written post (that might or might not have published yet. You know how I do.)

First up, something lovely by Nikki Giovanni (the flow reminds me of my nieces jumping Double Dutch). Next up, Gwendolyn Brooks will take over. Her piece makes me think of jazz music. By the way, I read somewhere a while back that they share(d) a birthday though Ms. Brooks is no longer alive. May she be resting in peace.

Now some word art for your ears.


And I Have You (by Nikki Giovanni)

Rain has drops
Sun has shine
Moon has beams
That make you mine

Rivers have banks
Sands for shores
Hearts have heartbeats
That make me yours

Needles have eyes
Though pins may prick
Elmer has glue
To make things stick

Winter has Spring
Stockings feet
Pepper has mint
To make it sweet

Teachers have lessons
Soup du jour
Lawyers sue bad folks
Doctors cure

All and all
This much is true
You have me
And I have you



We Real Cool (by Gwendolyn Brooks) 

               The Pool Players.
        Seven at the Golden Shovel.

            We real cool. We   
            Left school. We

            Lurk late. We
            Strike straight. We

            Sing sin. We   
            Thin gin. We

            Jazz June. We   
            Die soon.

(And, the line does read "thin gin" - not "think".)

Everyone have a beautiful day and enjoy your blessings.

Peace
--Free

I thought this was pretty. Sad but pretty.

Thursday, May 02, 2019

Art & Emotion

I have never felt comfortable discussing art with most people who like art. That's because I feel so ignorant on the subject. I do agree with whoever said they didn't know much about art but knew what they liked. And I tend to like what makes me feel or think.

Georgia O'Keeffe was the first artist I appreciated and it wasn't even her actual work that drew me in first. What I loved right off was the romance between her and the man who loved her so - and who photographed her in such a way that the love was obvious. I always wanted a man to look at me the way I imagined Alfred Stieglitz looked at O'Keeffe. I felt voyeuristic because of much I loved one sensual photo of her (you can see it here) and  I obsessed over O'Keeffe's hands. Later, I learned to love the way she painted those flowers.

O'Keeffe's flowers made me think about the simple beauty of nature that most of us don't take the time to appreciate. They reminded me to be in awe of nature and to truly understand that  - in Reddit-speak - nature is f**king lit.

You can only know what you are exposed to. Books and music are what my parents - my father - taught me to love. Both are forms of art but I was never really introduced to paintings or sculptures. The commonly know works of Michelangelo and da Vinci was unavoidable since I grew up on the Bible and in church. And... that's it basically. I have glanced at photos of works by the classical greats but so have most people.

Recently, I watched something on Netflix about an artist whose work really made me take notice. Struggle: The Life and Lost Art of Szukalski was interesting in all kinds of ways. I haven't decided exactly how I feel about the artist himself, but I fell in love with his work. The only way I can describe it is to say that if Szukalski had been a singer, he could hit notes no one even knew about. (By the way, here is where you learn more or even purchase books and prints.)

This piece is a favorite. And this and this and this (which is titled "Stubborn" but, to me, portrays depression). There's no room to list all the ones I like. I also loved the look of the letters he wrote to his wife. By the way, the man wrote like an artist. Literally. You have to watch the film to get that part.

I'm really glad that I happened upon that film because I discovered another artist. I think that artists - of all kinds and all mediums, whether visual, aural or otherwise - give the rest of us new ways to understand our feelings. For instance, I can't explain what love feels like but  Gwendolyn Brooks did it for me with her poem (my favorite!). Side note: I remembered blogging about the poem before and it was also a post about mood expression.

What I am realizing is that I can either just stumble across beautiful things (by happening upon a film) or I can search them out. I guess I need to start paying more attention to the world that is outside my head. It's been a while since I have even taken time to appreciate the works of artists I love. I need to change up some life priorities...

Before I close out this post, I want to explain that my parents did expose me to a lot of beautiful things. I didn't appreciate it at the time like most children don't. I wish my father could be here to tell me more about the music he loved and why he loved it. I can remember my mother helping me to understand why she loved the old "negro" spirituals she sang and hummed all the time. I'm even glad that I went through my teen years loving the works of Nikki Giovanni without understanding why until years later.

I can't remember now what prompted me to write this post, but it has motivated me. I want to spend some time this weekend looking back over some of my favorites artists. I want to get to a used book store and make some finds. Now I've got art and emotion on my brain.

Peace
-Free









Monday, January 27, 2014

Mood Music and Poetry

No matter what I'm feeling, I can usually find something something breathed out by another creative soul to catch my mood. Sometimes, that's a comforting thought - like when I realize that almost everything I feel (from physical desire to blind utter despair) is covered in the poetry of the Bible. Sometimes, it's absolutely chilling to know that my deepest fears and worst thoughts are represented by some artistic person in this world.

As a wanna-be novelist myself, anyone else's creative expression makes me feel that I am in unique company. I can't sing, but I hear songs and think, "Yes! That's just what it feels like." ("It" might be pain or worry or joy or madness.)

Though I love music, I often unintentionally re-write song lyrics as I sing them loudly (and badly, badly, badly) while dancing around my apartment. I try not to sing as loudly while I'm driving, or anywhere around the very young or very elderly for fear of causing internal organ trauma.

Before I get too far off subject, here are some songs and poems that fit certain moods. I hope you like them:

If you are sad


If you are in love, out of love or just confused


Just because I loves you-
That's de reason why
My soul is full of color
Like de wings of a butterfly
Just because I loves you
That's de reason why
My heart's a fluttering aspen leaf
When you pass by (Hughes 28)


If you need to dance or do anything else to work off stress
  • Beth Hart just kills it. She's so badass & I love her work. Get her if you need to move, pretend you can move or if you feel love.
  • Go oldies with The Temps, Lionel, or LTD
  • Go new with whoever you want to. I almost gave myself whiplash trying, so I'll stop here.

Getting back to mishearing lyrics, here's a fun fact: There is a name for mishearing/misquoting lyrics - "Mondegreen". Interesting...

More Interesting: The origin of the word.

Most Interesting: The one mondegreen I'm not guilty of is the funniest one ever. ("Desperado, you've been outright offensive, for so long now" (Real lyric: "You've been out riding fences," The Eagles.)

"In Da Club" (by 50 'Fitty' Cent) is one of my favorite songs to have a dancing fit to. My family will never, ever let me forget that I always heard the words as "We gonna slip a tardy" instead of, "We're gonna sip Bacardi." Think that's bad? This next line puts me in a league of my own: I hear "toes down, be's up" instead of "hoes down, G's up." (I just thought he was doing the country grammar thing!) That's what happens when someone my age listens to music way out of generation. (I still like my 'version' best.)

Peace
--Free

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

One Song, Many Feelings

You all know that I love music. I think it's one of the most wonderful gifts from the Creator.

One of the greatest songs ever, ever, ever recorded is, I believe, Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." But not  as sung by Cohen. Or Rufus Wainwright. Or anyone else I've heard sing it - although this version is pretty in a self-conscious way. Bless Cohen for the lyrics that try explaining love, but it's the Jeff Buckley version that moves me to a beautiful place.

The song is on my mind because it's one I use to set the tone as I work on one of my on-going stories. Sometimes, when I need a good memory of love, I play the song in an loop for hours. Listening to it when I've been assaulted by thoughts of my lat relationship is like taking a shower after rolling in mud.

I felt so strongly that Buckley made the most perfect version that I spent a few minutes searching some information. According that bible of secular wisdom, Wikipedia, I'm in the majority. And I find it lovely that Buckley himself was able to put words to a thought I had when he described it as a "hallelujah to the orgasm." Not just a physical exclamation of the senses, but that spiritual sort of sealing of a bond we make with someone we love. It's a pretty powerful song.

Here's Rufus Wainwright. I found his version nice, but not intimate or sweet enough for the words being sung.
And the lyricist Cohen. This version made me feel like I was being prayed over by a fire-and-brimstone minister.


And Buckley, who sang as if he truly understood what it would mean to sing the words only to someone who deserved hearing them.


As you listened, did you find yourself holding your breath?

Peace
--Free

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Bookshelf Dreams

That time of year is coming around again. It's a day that brings out the best and worst in me. My "inner child" comes out to play once a year. Sometimes she is a good girl, but sometimes, she is a pure and perfect nightmare of selfishness.

Yes, my birthday is coming.

Meh.

Yep. That's about  the way I look at it.
Even though I refuse to "grow up," my inner child is getting a bit wiser. The older I get, the more curious I am about things. I wish I'd had such a hunger for learning and discovering when I was younger.

I know am in tune with the saying about youth being wasted on the young.

When you are young, you do everything with gusto and no experience. It's the conundrum of life, I suppose. I mean, I couldn't appreciate a good heartache until I had blundered through a couple. Sex was only sex until I learned what real love was about. Smoking, eating, drinking - what a child I was about it all! How nice it would be to go back and enjoy the "first time" of some experiences, huh? But with the wisdom and palate of maturity.

But I ramble (because that's what older folk do).

This post is supposed to be about my dream bookshelf. Not a bookshelf of dreams, but what I dream of having on my bookshelf.

In all the moving around I've done over the past several years, I slowly let go of things that weighed me down. Getting rid of my books is a big regret. I did pass them on to friends and family, but, still. Thankfully, we live in an age when books are weightless, only taking up room on the microchip in our phones or tablets. What a world!

Having books on a microchip is pretty handy, but, as with photographs and letters, some things are better when we can touch them and hold them. Until I can collect hard copies of them, here are the books on my dream bookshelf *:


There are so many more. There are the Christian fiction series by people like D. Brian Shafer and Frank Peretti. I also want to read more of the lesser known literary works of early African-American writers. 

Anyway, this is what I wish to see on my bookshelf. From now on, when I meet people, I'm going to ask what they would wish to have on their bookshelves.

(Note to my family: this post is not a hint, but do what you must!)


Peace
--Free

* I use Wikipedia in most links because it will provide an overview for those not familiar with a title and author.








Friday, April 27, 2012

For One of The BFFs (To Be In Love)

(Because "B" is in love & struggling with it right now, this is my favorite Gwendolyn Brooks' poem. Hey, B, like I was telling you, we can't understand love & should never, ever try to.)

To be in love 
Is to touch with a lighter hand. 
In yourself you stretch, you are well. 
You look at things 
Through his eyes. 
A cardinal is red. 
A sky is blue. 
Suddenly you know he knows too. 
He is not there but 
You know you are tasting together 
The winter, or a light spring weather. 
His hand to take your hand is overmuch. 
Too much to bear. 
You cannot look in his eyes 
Because your pulse must not say 
What must not be said. 
When he 
Shuts a door- 
Is not there_ 
Your arms are water. 
And you are free 
With a ghastly freedom. 
You are the beautiful half 
Of a golden hurt. 
You remember and covet his mouth 
To touch, to whisper on. 
Oh when to declare 
Is certain Death! 
Oh when to apprize 
Is to mesmerize, 
To see fall down, the Column of Gold, 
Into the commonest ash




B - Sleep good, sweets. It's been a rough few days, but you are going to be alright & I'm going to be alright. Alright? LOL


Peace
--Free


*Thanks to Poem Hunter.