We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage / And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, / We Poets of the proud old lineage / Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ... (James Elroy Flecker)

22.3.18

Finger Painting


Finger Painting

Because I had jubilant splashes
of wine-red, purple, tangerine, mauve,
I could fling them at a page –
my hands wet and gushing,
my arms dripping, up to the elbow.

Because I had paints made from plants
and dyes mixed from various muds,
and huge flat leaves and plaited reeds,
I could sit or stand or lie full length
creating chaos, covering it with patterns.

Alone inside my engagement, enraptured,
I swished and swirled and scraped and piled
colours on colours, on reed or leaf,
shaping them this way and that
with my will, with my hands … like a god.


Prompted by Poets United's Midweek Motif ~ Colourand based 
on the poem (at that link) The Art Room by Shara McCallum.

12 comments:

  1. WOW! I remember! Creation with color and moisture and abandon is the best feeling. This poem is absolutely ebullient!

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  2. You have captured how i imagine it feels to paint.

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  3. Wow! Love this creator's version. Most beautiful.

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  4. Delightful: full of colour and creativity! I love those 'jubilant splashes'!

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  5. Fabulous feeling...just reading that poem!

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  6. In any piece of art (or writing for that matter) it is so good to have just that feeling of success. Mind you if it doesn't get the appreciation you thought it deserved you can always say "They don't understand my work! Yes, you are like a god and should be pleased with yourself!

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  7. The creative ego is like that isn't it. Nice candid write Rosemary

    Thanks for dropping by my blog

    much love...

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  8. Your's is a description of the artist. I loved it!

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  9. lovely write... the creative ego can be a powerful thing

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  10. I like how you equate creating art with being a God. It can feel like that!

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  11. wow cool poem, im doing this with my body :)

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