One thing I haven’t done in far too long, two or three weeks at least, maybe a month, is to add a poem to my Poems about Paintings page. Partly it’s because I was on vacation, partly, maybe, it was due to boredom with the whole project, and partly it’s because I’ve been overly obsessed with politics, and all of my time on facebook has been spent arguing with people instead of looking at pretty paintings and trying to find inspiration.
That’s the goal of the project. To see a painting, draw some kind of inspiration from it, and write a poem. Boredom with the project is possible because how many poems can you write about trees and flowers and mountain streams and seascapes and so on.
So, I was glad today to see one and get inspired. One of the things I really like about writing poetry is that in the search for rhyming words, a new thought will suddenly pop up at random and voila, something new is created. That’s sort of what happened with this one. I wanted to write a nice, cute poem about a yard overgrown with wild flowers but then the last couple of lines just jumped out at me and I realized the truth of them. Although we think of flowers as beautiful, delicate, fragile things, they grow everywhere and are tough and tenacious life forms. Here’s the poem:
There are places flowers grow
in tidy gardens, row on row
They also grow in big, clay plots
and randomly in vacant lots
do not be fooled by their looks so fair
their pretty petals, their fragile air
their poise, their grace, their perfumed smell
they are fierce, and wild as hell
Now begins the process of obtaining the artist’s permission, which is a waiting game, and if she ignores the request, in a couple of weeks I’ll start looking for a similar work by some famous, and very dead, artist, so I can put the poem onto the site.
Still, I am glad I got the poem written and that dry streak, I hope, is broken.