I have a sijo on Monday for you this time! This week’s sijo theme is ART. I was inspired by the painting “Young Girl Writing a Love Letter” by Pietro Antonio Rotari, a print of which I have framed in my room.
Look at her daydreaming lovesick look on her pretty face, Blush-pink cheek resting upon her left hand, feather-quill in her right -- I will not ruin her reverie, with a cynical ending
I’ve been reading a book called I Love Jesus, but I Want to Die, by Sarah J. Robinson. The book title was what attracted me because of how blunt it is. I appreciate that the author didn’t mince words. I’ve had this book for over a year but only started to read it a couple of months ago because, before, I couldn’t get through the first page without sobbing.
I read a chapter today which mentioned psalm 139. Not the verses that are supposed to be hope-filled, such as “I praise You, because I am fearfully and wonderfully made,” but the part where it says, “If I make my bed in hell [or Sheol, or the grave], You are there.” That inspired me to make this piece of “art,” using good old Microsoft Paint:
It might not be finished, but I wanted to share. Nor am I finished with the book, but I wanted to write about it because it is the most real book on dealing with depression from a Christian perspective that I’ve ever read. Sometimes it gives me some hope. Other times it doesn’t, but it doesn’t claim to have all the answers. That verse helped a little today but it might not tomorrow; we will have to see.
I surprised myself by writing for MLMM’s “Sunday Confessionals: Secrets.” I wasn’t going to because (if you read the prompt) even I have things I don’t want to write about. However, a book I was reading reminded me of this prompt and inspired me to try. This poem, a cherita, is a response to the poem that I wrote in response to the prompt, so it is tangentially related.
I wrote my poem; it took up a whole page. There are some things so sacred I won't Name them, blasting them on my blog. You won't be witness to this catharsis Even I don't know how deep the sea Of double-secrets, but the waves whisper it.
For MLMM’s Photo Challenge #413, this image from Pobble 365:
My first thought upon seeing this was about the surrealist painter René Magritte, specifically his painting The Son of Man, which you will probably recognize:
I found some fascinating information about Magritte himself, specifically about his early life. Learning about what events inspired an artist’s or writer’s work is endlessly intriguing to me!
It seems Magritte was a vampire:
Looking into the mirror seeing no face
No hair empty black suit black hat.
White Walls.
Is this the real world?
It seems an image given by a false mirror
An image given yet at least free,
Free of that damned apple
Which filled the entire space between
These
White Walls.
I’ve been trying to write something all week for this captivating picture (preferably something that is not terrible). This poem started to take on some surrealist qualities as I wrote and looked at more of his paintings. At least, that’s my excuse. Apologies!
(my one-liner today)
I also have a poem inspired by that line and DVerse Poetics’s prompt from yesterday: “The Light of Vika Muse.” They feature the beautiful and fantastical art of a Ukrainian artist, Vika Muse. Continue reading
10 For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.
The Greek word translated as “workmanship” is “poiēma,” which looks a lot like the word “poem,” so I wrote this poem. This was written on February 20th, but I saved it for a day when I had nothing else to post. Today is that day. Though a few ideas were floating around my mind, none landed on the page well enough to be post-able.
A sonnetina (like a sonnet but only 10 lines) in response to MLMM’s Saturday Mix: Opposing Forces. I have actually written a few poems in different forms on this same topic, reusing the first one or two lines multiple times. I find that entertaining. 🙂
What’s all else worth, if greatest dream is dead?
Even with wealth, one craves and hungers still,
Without a way to find his daily bread:
Having nothing to live for kills the will.
A quiet heartbeat yet the pain is loud:
A frozen passion nevermore to melt,
Humbling the artist’s eyes that had been proud
Of such great work — that joy no longer felt.
What use is popularity and cash,
If one’s reason for being’s burned to ash?
This is a décima for Ronovan Writes’s challenge and for FOWC: Minute.
Beautiful lives are created,
Slowly becoming works of art,
Working day by day, part by part,
Even if change is belated. Continue reading
One thing I am loving today is….the act of creating art. I guess you could call this the “flow state.” This stream-of-consciousness poem is for SOCS: above/below.
Above all, I wanted to just post something today. Yesterday I didn’t post anything and hardly wrote anything, either. Until about 8 p.m., I had only written one poem, and the good news about that is, by the time I went to sleep, I had written another 3 poems in my notebook. Their quality, however, is dubious and most likely below average.This is my second poem of today. Let’s see if I have any luck in following this mysterious and winding stream.
Those days that I love the most
Are the ones when I am least aware
Of my own thoughts. No reason to boast
Or be ashamed, I am simply there.
I am playing music at piano keys,
Or writing poems by hand in ink.
Perhaps I feel not aloft on the breeze,
Neither do I in dark depths sink.
I am spending time in the presence
Of those I love, and Love itself,
My very being exists as intense
Creative force, which is my wealth.
An almost-late offering for Linda’s ekphrastic paint-chip poetry prompt. She provided several beautiful photos for us to choose from, and I decided to write about this one: 
(c) 2021 L. Kruschke
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