To all my Family and Friends. May you all have a blessed Easter. This Easter is even more significant to me. Bitter sweet in many ways as I continue to ask some profound questions.
“And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.” -Rainer Maria Rilke, poet
What is the artist’s duty?
Is it to invent beauty?
Is it to envision the possibility of world peace?
An artist may believe that one duty might be
the realistic representation of our crumbling society?
Should the artist’s duty be to paint the impossible dream, the deferred dream?
Should the artist mutilate figures to shock us into seeing our true selves?
Some artists will focus on “lo que le dice la patria.” (what country calls you to do)
Others will stress nature’s everlasting fortitude and beauty.
Paintings could be the inquiries we all have.
They can be a thousand garbled words no one understands.
A painting could be grotesque?
It could be an illusion?
What is the duty of the artist?
For me, it is simple. The duty of the artist is to paint a poem.
Over 3000 people on average are dying every day now because of COVID 19. We must never forget these souls. May their memories be a blessing to those they left behind. My painting below is dedicated to all those hundreds of thousands of souls. Many died alone unable to speak to loved ones. The hearts represent their souls and also the broken hearts of their loved ones. We are all one in all and one in all. The butterfly represents hope. In Spanish we refer to a butterfly as “esperanza” which means hope. I hope we protect each other and continue to wear masks to protect others. So much is happening right now. But let us focus on how precious life is and how much our loved ones mean to us. Let us not forget the essence of our oneness. Stay safe! God bless!
I do not want to loose momentum. I want all of us to keep our ears and eyes open. I want us to continue to ask the pertinent and relevant questions. The answers to those questions that matter to us individually and collectively for the good of all. I cannot stress enough the importance of keeping informed. Read critically and look for accurate and credible sources. This is just my sincere advice. I speak as an educator, mother, grandmother and simply an American who cares about what happens to our beloved country.
In the meantime, I want to write and paint because these activities help me cope and melt my worries away a little.
Painting and Poem Melba Christie
Passions flow
hearts beat with empathy
Perhaps a hopeful tomorrow
A few memories
just visited me
on this Father’s Day,
to remind me
of my dear old dad,
and the things he used to say.
His wisdom of practical design,
inspired us to think all the time.
“Try to stay as healthy as you can because being alive can be dangerous.”
“Live life knowing it is the only one you have; no one has come back to tell us otherwise.”
“Give your all and don’t think twice about helping out a stranger; for all of us are one.”
I hear his hearty laughter
as contagious like a cold.
I see his big bright smile
spreading happiness to all.
I see him working hard
day in and day out
singing all the while
his favorite arias
and whistling Broadway tunes
almost like Frank Sinatra
I remember how he hugged me
like he was hugging the whole world
all at once for the last time.
A memory I hope that stays
with me
until the day I die.
I am sure he’ll wait for me
at the pearly gate,
along Saint Peter,
(of whom he will be sure to say is his best friend),
And just like he did when on earth
he’ll whisk me away
in his Cadillac.
trying to beat
the parking maid
before she reads the meter.
Happy Father’s Day in Heaven!
Love you always.
Remember
No matter where you are on this great planet
No matter what language you speak
The symbol above is quite universal
Our hearts all beat the same
Take a minute and listen to your heart beating
It may sound a little louder, A little bolder
because our hearts are beating in unison
more than ever.
God bless you all.
Somehow a virus
makes us more aware we are
one and all for one
There’s hope! This is all I can say when I heard this extraordinary young man sing and play piano. Autism speaks! Autism sings. I worked with autistic young people a few years ago on a special project. I coached adult autistic students to write poetry and find their voices. It was such an enlightening experience for me as an educator. Much more research needs to be done regarding autism. There is no doubt that autism has a spectrum. This performance blew my mind, made me cry and filled me with hope. Enjoy!
A Found Poem
Flightless wings
know very well
Authenticity
lives in death
The song of May
reminds us
that Mother’s Day
is near
and a Mother’s fear
grows more today
Because
The Promised Land
no longer sows
Bluebells in the sunshine
Beside the old Trail of Hope
Where I used to collect
my dreams one by one
But despite the awful things
That spread on fields of my mind
I am not obedient;
Conformity is not my thing
I Pray.
I pray for kindness.
and want to spread the word.
Life is Good!
Lift your voice and sing!
Tomorrow will be May again:
Flowers scheduled to be in bloom,
let us forget the words of doom.
And for those who predict only gloom,
Just remember,
Tomorrow is another day.
and soon it will be Mother’s Day!
Let us rake the fears away.
As I mentioned in the video I created this Found Poem inspired by some of the titles, words and phrases used in the posts of my fellow bloggers at WordPress.
Attributions:
Pat Cegan
Ricardo Sexton
The Moral Traveller
John Coyote
Liz Bard
The Poet’s Corner
What Confusion?
Who gets confused these days?
Everything is so true, so clear.
Why would you be confused my dear?
Is what I see real or not?
Why would I rather sleep on a cot?
Are words that hate really love?
Are facts alternative you think?
Today if it weren’t for poetry
Life would really stink?
The following is a poem by Yosa Buson (1716-1783). My painting was inspired by his haiku. Buson was a very good painter and made a living at it. Buson published many poems in anthologies. By the time he reached the age of fifty-five he was known to be the leader of Kyoto poets and the best of modern Haiku poets.
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