Welcome are the passionately curious

"There was one Elephant--a new Elephant--an Elephant's Child--who was full of 'satiable curiosity, and that means he asked ever so many questions. And he lived in Africa, and he filled all Africa with his 'satiable curiosities." Rudyard Kipling

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Foundations I Art Class Project

Our professor assigned a folio project for our class. The first page requires us to answer the question "What is art?"
We can quote others if we wish, or we can write our own definitions. Here is mine.
Art results from the methods in which the artist may manipulate various materials in diverse styles — via color, form, and other sensorial elements and principles — to evoke specific emotional, intellectual, and/or physical responses from his or her audience,  be it admiration, fear, disgust, wonder, etc.
What do you think? Have I missed something? Or should it be narrowed down somewhat?

Thursday, September 8, 2011

The One Wish Granted

My impossible made possible is that I could have a sprawling house large enough to shelter and bring up every unwanted child. All of them. That I could have enough money to educate them in whatever discipline they had a natural talent for – music, math, art, science. That I could keep, love, and mother them until they were old enough to live and thrive on their own.

I’d take them all. No questions asked of you, the parents. No judgment for why you don’t want him, why she doesn’t fit in with your schedule, why they’re mistakes you have to wipe clean, why they’re accidents or ugly mementos.

I’ll take them. You don’t have to see them ever again.

Just don’t kill them, please. Please, don't.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

I closed my eyes and leaped

A few days ago, for the first time, I voluntarily submitted three poems (Edifice, The Southern Thing, and Sestina for my Charlotte) to a literary journal--Crazyhorse--for publication. Crazyhorse has published a few works by Billy Collins, a major influence on my own writing. I decided to take a chance with this publication because if his poetry found a niche there, perhaps mine could.

My submission was the 34,411st.


Friday, September 2, 2011

A Return to Blue

A Return to Blue
My parents wore blue so much.
I preferred reds and purples
They wore it all the time
But I would not like
Things for others’ liking.
I did not notice until today,
Further away from home than
I’ve ever been,
How much blue
Nests in my jewelry box
And roosts in my closet.

Gentle man

Gentle man
Learned well in the ways of his Father
Dependable man
Intruding into my despair
Yet can take “no” for an answer—
Frightening thought.
He walked ahead of his beloved,
Gave her a rose—
Thorns gone: he himself had taken them off.
Generously open and red.   
And opened the door for her.