Description: This is an older piece (marked 10-19-04), but nansofast's "Masterpiece" inspired me to post it.
An Artists's Year -------------------------------------------
In spring she drew in pastels
the blooming azaleas,
the newly bright oak trees
And backyard tire swings surrounded by fireflies.
Summer was for watercolours
of ocean sunsets and quaint plantation homes.
She painted autumn in oils
immortalizing the myriad colours of mountain leaves
and earthy Indian pottery.
She marked winter with charcoal sketches
of the skeletons of the elms in her front yard
a And log cabins with smoking chimneys.
She'd performed this cycle
since she was a child,
but this was the most beautiful yet,
for somehow she knew it would be her last,
so she cherished each stroke of her gaunt hand
and hoped to leave this world
while immortalizing its beauty.
<applaudes> great piece. The piece in itself is a wonderous work of art, you paint well with your brush, I like the subtle melancholy feeling punctuated by these lines:
She marked winter with charcoal sketches Of the skeletons of the elms in her front yard And log cabins with smoking chimneys She'd performed this cycle Since she was a child
this for me, gave me an erie feeling as I knew something was going to change...the over all body of it is gorgeous, I personally use punctuation, but with this piece the pauses are pretty self evident. I don't know what to say but great job.
wow your work is about as depressing as mine is...lol. This is a beautiful poem that portrays the essence of art perfectly. The imortalization of beauty in pastel at the hand of the dying, beaty in the face of death. It's quite a romantic poem really.
oh my, why did you not post this sooner? This is truly beautiful, visually and emotionally. The way you compared seasons with different forms of art is creative and inspiring, and your descriptions of the seasons packed a powerful punch in so few words (but then again that is your forte).
Your aging artist is inspiring in that she has made it through a life on this planet that will wear even the most optimistic person down, yet she still sees the beauty around her and will pass in the peace of being at one with it.
This is visually stunning. I tend to see moving pictures in my mind when I read, write, listen to music, or just amble about my day. I have a strong appreciation for imagery in poetry, and this one fits the bill to a capital T. I'd like to offer ten pages of detailed analysis, but you already have that below me here, and I feel the best I can do is to say I'm marking this baby as one of my faves and carrying it on down the road a piece.
This should be the setting for a movie. Jessica Tandy should play the old woman. So bittersweet at the end. This is the most visual poem I have read in quite some time. It made me envision the movie "What dreams May Come"...watercolors and brush strokes. I am done reading for the night I think and this was the perfect piece for me to stop on. Beautiful work Amy...R.
many a female artist would have you read this at their funerals. how lovely, how lasting and what a tribute to artists. and how accepting of the artist to be ready to leave as long as she had something to leave behind. and I guess that's what all of us are doing here. only with poems instead of paintbrushes. another wonderful write. btw, we're supposed to get snow here. I hope they're wrong!
This is super Amy! I love nature poems, especially about the changing seasons, the cycles of nature and of each living thing.
You speak of a "year" in the life of the artist, but it isn't just one year is it, -it is the way her observant artist eye takes in the whole wheel of the year and relates it to life , and in this particular year, her own life as it draws to a close.
What I found fascinating, briliant actually, was the choices of the media used for each season, and the delicate metaphor they share with the deasons of human life.
"In spring she drew in pastels"-soft colors and bright and pure, fuzzy edges-I see furry new born things, and crayola brightness, the new waxen colors scribbled on the fading winetr backgound-pastels even smell good, pure -like chalk when school starts and the chalkboards are all squeaky clean.
"Summer was for watercolors", YES!, so much pure bright color, all connected and running together.Vibrant, bright clean clear, nothing dull in summer all awash with light and color.
Autumns oils, suggest darker richer tones and testures, especially the textures, and the wonderful shadows and play of light. All these media also parallel the human life too, I think infancy and early childhood in fuzzy pastel things, their delicate purity,and innocence, fragility.. followed later by the most vibrant happy years of the young adults. The middle aged years then richer with a patina of experience and wisdom,- the body , the mind bearing the textures of various strokes applied each with his own style,-this was brilliant.
And then winter, old age, sketched in charcoal, -black and white , and grey skies,white snow, white /grey hair, "skeletal" trees waiting for spring, darkness reigns , shadows, , and the way charcoal is dusty -like the pastels, from ashes to ashes, we come from dust and in the end become dust again. Smoke from woodfires, -the seed that sprouted the sprig that became a tree, that died after a useful life and became firewood, that warmed hearths as a final gift. And at last
"So she cherished each stroke of her gaunt hand And hoped to leave this world While immortalizing its beauty"
This was damn fine Amy. I suppose this comment is overlong again, but I just wrote it in the box as it came to me, rather than in notepad. (Someone on this site hates long comments, -if he ever writes anything worth commenting on i will be sure to keep it short-(*slaps self for snotty remark*) )
You know I love poems about art too, -so here we have two at least, no three of of my favorite themes all melded together.I would call that a Fave! Silver
I love this Amy, it describes my dream life. I would love to be an artist and have chronicled my life in these mediums. I love watercolors for summer, that's perfect. Charcoals for winter works too. Pastels for spring, I can't imagine any more lovely way to preserve flowers. And yes, this is the life of an artist- trying to reflect the beauty of a world we see, hoping it translates...I love it! Hugs and French Silk pie, Nan
this is very pretty. i like the way you used different mediums for the seasons, pastel in spring, watercolors in summer, autumn in oils and winter in charcoal. they are a perfect fit to their respective seasons. it seems she is in the autumn of her life here, or even into the winter.. i loved the ending, how she acknowledges the beauty around her that she has painted. very nice work, Amy. soothing...
This is so bittersweet. The winter season was the best described I think. Maybe it's because you used words like, "charcoal" and "skeleton" that really captured me. I like dark and gloomy words when it's mixed into something nostalgic and peaceful like this. This has a lot of symbolism as well. I like the ending because it was the artists last and she felt it. That's a powerful thing. Great job. I just love your writing! :) -blt
once again another great write great imagery used throughout to give the reader a piece of the painting the ending was putting the whole thought together .well done great write and great read , Thanx for pevious comments sandman
oh breathtaking. You captured an amazing sense of sadness and reflection. A like the way you showed the cycle of seasonsthrough the artwork. I sense a person who always looked for the beauty in the world and maybe didnt always find it. Get published will you! Kate xoxoxo
Maybe I am dumb but I was not really sure what you meant...I did not get the poem, but don't feel bad and don't take it offensively but I liked the imagery...it did make me very calm when I was reading it.
Even though you didn't mention it directly you seem to suggest that if the soul can be siphoned away it can also return. I guess it comes about when you start drawing on the themes of nature's season. Observing the passage of time in nature automatically draws on themes of regeneration and cycles, whereas observing the passage of time in places like cities seems to have the opposite effect, namely annihilation and limitation. Also because you talk of her death as a glorious attempt to see the beauty in this world. No misery or bitterness here :)