Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Susan at Chicken Spaghetti for Roundup.
For this week's ArtSpeak: FOLK ART, I've got not one but two poems for you today! In honor of my orchestra weekend, I selected a music-themed piece of art created by Clarke Coe.
The cello is, in essence, a box with strings and a couple of holes. That got me thinking about other boxes-that-aren't-boxes I have loved....and that became a poem!
Boxes
I've slept in a van—
box with four wheels
I've flown a Piper—
box swaddled by infinite sky
I've cuddled a cello—
box where a thousand
nightingales nest
- Irene Latham
The weekend was amazing, but I did get some sad news of an extended family member's passing. She lived a long life, and was a bright light...and a poet too! So I ended up writing a death haiku. Thanks so much for reading.
blue note
held in the arms of rhythm
death comes softly
held in the arms of rhythm
death comes softly
- Irene Latham
Irene, this week's ArtSpeak poetry provides two different perspectives. The word blue strikes a cord-a tribute to a poet relative. The word softly adds another tone of sweet repose. Your boxes poem provides images that are descriptive. You take such loving care when you write your ArtSpeak poetry.
ReplyDeleteTwo lovely poems. Your boxes remind me of Liz's A Sock is a Pocket for Your Toes!
ReplyDeleteI love your description of the cello- it reminds me of a poem my daughter wrote about her violin when she played in her high school orchestra, so expressive of the love of playing music. The blue note resonates with the grieving experience.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry for the bright light you will miss. Being "held in the arms of rhythm" is lovely. A thousand nightingales...that's the sound of the cello! How gorgeous.
ReplyDeleteIrene, two beautiful poems. My condolences on the death of your family member, but what a description you wrote of her: "She lived a long life, and was a bright light...and a poet too!" Oh, if we could all have that said of us. That cello as a "box where a thousand / nightingales nest" is lovely and reminds me of the beautiful music a cello makes.
ReplyDeleteWhat an interesting piece! And I love how you have such varied moods to accompany it. Being "held in the arms of rhythm" feels like dancing home.
ReplyDeleteOF course the cello poem speaks to me personally. "Cuddled" is the perfect word for how one holds the cello. And oh to hear those nesting nightingales sing! So sorry for your loss.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry to read of the loss of your dear family member, Irene. What a loving poem you wrote for her. "Death comes softly" is, well, a beautiful thought. Love the box poem, and those nightingales, happy that you had a great time.
ReplyDeleteTwo beautiful poems! I love thinking of the cello as a place for nightingales.
ReplyDeleteI do hope that one day, at my passing, people will describe me as a bright light - I can think of few more wonderful ways to be remember. <3
ReplyDeleteBlue and boxes and beauty in words, Irene. May the song of those thousand nightingales bring comfort.
ReplyDeleteI am late to last Friday's party, but wanted to say I love the view of the variety of boxes in our life. Seven lines that bring me visually to each moment. I will be seeing boxes everywhere today. :) I am so sorry for your loss, Irene. Music was important part of my goodbye to my mother. You brought me right back there to both the grief and the healing. Sending hugs.
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