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Pastiche

Pastiche

 

A mélange of media

Rococo

Painting leaps out of sculpture

Plaster writhes from metal into stone,

Lurks in upper corners

I don’t know how much we make of this

(the making and interpreting)

These days,

Though steampunk runs some tries at this,

I think

(and really well)

 

I remember pictures from a textbook

I doubt I’ll get to Spain to see

Just past the golden age

But I appreciate the media

Mixing up to make a life

Yours, mine, and ours

McLuhan notwithstanding,

We are the message

We go through the doors

Then rise

And all the art we’ve made

 

C L Couch

 

 

Prettysleepy2

https://pixabay.com/en/steampunk-gears-pipes-brass-door-3222894/

 

 

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Tenth Muse

Tenth Muse

 

Nine muses

For the Greeks,

A tenth muse

For Filipinos

And for me

Grace and gift

 

I aspire toward

Invocation

 

If paraluman

Visit and illumine

 

Then I shall, in

Turn, be filled

With art from

 

Philippine spirit

 

I could not

Ask for more

Than far-off

Soul-wind

Breathe on me

 

Word-High July: Welcome!

Maria of Doodles and Scribbles and I [that’s Rosema at rosemawrites] are more than excited to read your takes on the 30 Beautiful Filipino Words.

  1. Write or create a post inspired or about the Filipino word prompts.
  2. A post can be anything. A poem, a fiction, a six-word tale, or even a photo. It’s all up to you.
  3. Linkback/create a pingback to this post: Word-High July 30 Beautiful Filipino Words. Here is a quick tutorial on how to do a pingback.
  4. Tag your post with WordHighJuly, so your co-bloggers will be able to read/see your take on the prompt. Here’s how you create tags.
  5. Most important of all, read and comment to your blogger friends (old and new found, we’ll never know).

HOP ON and let’s all GET WORD-HIGH this JULY!

9

Art in Anxious Time

Art in Anxious Time

 

I’m anxious and it’s

hard to write

 

art expressed in pain:

I don’t know how

those artists do it

 

maybe it’s big fear

and nihilistic agony

that keeps them

going, that prompts

expression that might

change the world

and everything

beyond

 

the gardeners at

Hiroshima and

Nagasaki must

accomplish this

 

I have small pains

and many things that

trouble me—yes,

sometimes they are

bad as in raw—

unformed, unfixed,

 

though I think the

only one that might

be changed through

treating these in art

is me

 

still, through all

the small-town

clay-house conflicts

I might strive to

express something

new

 

something that might

relate to you

 

 

 

(the teacher and good

sport in me should tell

you that clay house

is a Puritan metaphor)

8

for my poem friends, then all the rest

ISIS doesn’t like the arts

The terrorists brought down marvels
in ancient statues and friezes, having
murdered the curator defending these

and having no gun. They fired with guns
into a Paris concert venue, while the music
played and fans were sinuously in

tune, young ones with blissful
countenance and their own song. For this
was Friday night, and love for music

elevates. “They don’t like music,” Bono
claims, and he is right—art and
beauty have no place

in the terrorist agenda. So
dangerous must be the muse’s power
to prod a people into thinking and loving

with all art’s inspiration. So
much is beauty feared in the
mad-monger’s eye that it must be

demolished. And so we must see straight
and straighter. Protect our people, fight
back, and preserve our beloved and unique

intuitions and expressions. We must
remember, too, this is not a war on
Islam, whose tenets teach welcoming

and prayer. But what we make—which
is the poem’s meaning, that is, to
make—is taken now as part of who

we are. Life is better. Yet art moves
the heart, wakes up the mind: opening
our better selves. This terrorizes terror.

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