Inspiration

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.

Warm Glow

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

Grace Far Surpassed

I wrote this today because today, in the Catholic Church, we celebrate the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The image below is my favorite painting of Our Lady.

Although in Adam all have stain of sin,
Through Christ abundant life can enter in:
So far beyond what we could think or ask,
Grace far surpassed.

When salvation’s newest phase had begun,
The Father made a mother for His Son:
When the appointed time had come at last,
Grace far surpassed.

Almighty God preserved her from all stain,
Christ’s loving mother Mary we all gained:
The role of the new Eve set to be cast,
Grace far surpassed.

Through the Eyes of Illness

picture by Oleg Oprisco

The Traveler

I wasn’t going to post this, but here it is: an attempt at flash-fiction for FFFC #92. The image is below. I am also sharing this with the Writers’ Pantry.
Side note: I just realized that I have been writing and posting about space a lot lately.

So Bad, It’s Good

Yesterday, my friend had a small party, and one of the activities we did was paint along to a Bob Ross painting tutorial. I had heard of him but never tried one of those videos. Anyway, my finished painting inspired this free-verse poem, because it is not very good! I’m rather embarrassed about it (so I am sharing it with the internet 😂). 

Anhedonia

This (attempt at a) sevenling is for FOWC: Endorse and this week’s Weekly Scribblings, particularly inspired by this picture:

Carnival Dreams by Shelle Kennedy

If We Could Speak

This was difficult to finish, but here is my response to Paint-Chip Poetry #44, especially since I didn’t post my attempt last week. This was also partially inspired by MLMM’s Tale Weaver: Bubbles.

April

Here is another installment of Linda’s paint-chip poetry. I tried to also write in quatrains with an “abab” rhyme scheme. This is also shared with DVerse OLN. Our prompt words are below.

“April showers bring May flowers,”
So goes a well-known adage.
A heartbeat blooms and overpowers
Sky-waterfalls; hope makes a hedge.

Pumpkins planted in the spring
Are simply seeds, but by October,
They’re ripe for jack-o-lantern carving,
So parts of April are not over.

One April morning we are all fools,
Many pranks people like to test:
Teaching that when time seems cruel,
To keep new hope in a cedar chest.

What Gives Us Nightmares

This is for FOWC: Scream. I am also sharing with the Writers’ Pantry. Special thanks to Mr. Bump for reminding me about how terrifying this painting is and how it gave 10-year-old Jenna at least one nightmare. I wrote a free-verse, almost stream-of-consciousness, so…here you go. 

Edvard Munch, The Scream

Consider “The Scream,”

that disturbing painting,

so unsettling

it gave this child nightmares. 

Consider how Mr. Munch

may have painted it today,

if he were living —

horror of art “nouveau normal”

The orange sky is surprisingly

accurate, as is the conspicuous

absence of most

others — uncertainty and anxiety

Are certainly closer

companions — but he’s not wearing

a mask!

this dehumanized creature needs

A face covering,

so no one sees his scream,

though we hear it

screeching, reaching from 1893.