~
Dark, my scent the smoke of wood fungus
Hidden, my intimate flesh the sugared amber sap of trees
Returning, my under arms the rotting nurture of fallen leaves
~
The fertile air tentacles
leaving traces
of spores and maple and mold.
Some leave quickly and some take hold.
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poem and painting … j.h.white.
Vivid and haunting: both poem and image. Bravo.
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Thank you John. Something came over me….I do think age encourages us to re-envision ourselves. (I’m laughing heartily here)
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Love the imagery
The tree as compared to you
And the art
Just beautiful
Sheldon
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Thank you Sheldon. It was fun to write the poem and fun to paint all those colors.
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The colors were beautiful
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Now that, is erotic.
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Spontaneous and a lot of fun….good description for erotic!
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. . . a good starting point, for sure. . .
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Intimate and open – universal and specific – and lovely both image and text.
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Glad you liked them Richard. Thanks!
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Sensuous…evocative…poetry!
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I appreciate everyone’s comments Bonnie. We are vulnerable, we fleshy ones, without fur, scale, feather or bark. I woke to our first snow this morning! Good thing we have sweaters….!
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Love both of these – the image and the words. & Happy New Year!
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I hope you have a creative year too Steven. I’m assuming this equates as a good year? Well, add all the rest of it in this wish too! … and thanks for the encouragement.
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Such wonderful imagery and poetry. I’ve only just discovered your blog.
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Thank you very much and welcome!
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the
seeds
the woods
used to scare me
~
I could smell my fear
~
but
over time
solitude and interactions, quiet leaves
dancing frantic spirals in the wind
~
spores, maple, mold
growth and decay
order and chaos
take and hold
me
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Thanks Geo. They do, don’t they….
I was startled the other day, Geo. I don’t startle often but this realization stopped me. I’ve never asked “nature” (in my heart of hearts)…. “How has it been for you”?
I’ve always assumed nature to be resilient and somewhat ultimately impervious to human singularity, despite the dents and destruction.
In physics singularity means. ..”a point at which a function takes an infinite value, especially in space-time when matter is infinitely dense, as at the center of a black hole.”
And I thought.. perfect description.
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wonderful description
~
some of the best conversations
happen along the trail
as a dog
sniffs my hand
~
accepting my scent
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Gorgeous painting, I love the vivid colours and the expression of finding a secret treasure on her face, is wonderful. I wonder what she is thinking. Your poem answers, she has been allowed to see the interior, coursing through her veins.
It was good to think this through Jana, I hope my interpretation is acceptable to you.
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You crack me up Teri…You know how it is. Hearing someone’s interpretation opens up, broadens, expands ones own.
“Secret treasure” for sure though. Just the wonder of it all, huh? The relevance of the spaces in between things has been coming up lately. What transpires when we allow ourselves to “be there”. Open, responsible for our contribution, and cognizant of response. A cultivated sensitivity in relationship…and with situations beyond our immediate understanding and comfortable reference. Meet you on the trail, Teri!
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And what about bubbles – there is inside the bubble and outside the bubble, but what is in-between (this is an excerpt from a short story for children that I have been working on).
Oh yes indeed Jana, meet you on the trail of many wonderful twists and surprising turns.
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Bubbles…I’m going to have to think about this one, Teri. You’ve posed a really good question. I chose to live in places that are set apart …that give the distinct feeling of being separate from the homogeneous cultural collective…whether it’s a piece of land or a city. I think of them as bubbles. I like bubbles…. Wow, good question. I’m hoping you share your story. I can’t wait to read it.
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Enjoying the exchange Jana. I like your thinking of places as bubbles, this is interesting. Lie yourself, I chose to live on the edge of the cultural collective, couldn’t bear to be swallowed in the mix of suburbia, but still take part, albeit on my terms of separateness.
We have our own bubbles of familiarity, family in this one, friends/lovers in another,etc. and if something occurs that is not in one of our bubbles, we should’nt let it affect us. Safe thinking perhaps, but what happens when the bubble is burst, a new way to be safe has to be found. Perhaps, as your post suggests, some things leave quickly and some take hold.
Once we know how to read in-between the lines, the trail is full of signposts, and it is so wonderful learning the language.
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I see where you are going with this Teri. Hariod (http://contentedness.net) introduced me to Martin Buber and his concept of Ich-Du, Ich-es which touches on this beautifully. I think you’d find Buber’s ideas satisfying, if you are unfamiliar with him.
The spaces in between is a wonderful concept to explore with children. Well, anyone for that matter.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Buber
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p.s. getting back to your post, great imagery, you are the tree.
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Thanks for the wiki-link to Martin Buber. I have come across him before but not really delved into his philosophy, will take another look. Jacques Derrida holds my interest and also, as you say, exploring the spaces in between through the eyes of a child, their simple truths can be quite mind-blowing.
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so much said in a few words. the rhyming couplet just sounds right, as does the repetition of “some” in the last line. the music becomes part of the meaning.
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Interesting you mention this….the couplet arrived as if I was remembering an old song. It probably is more akin to a song lyric. Great place to bang a drum!
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Our paintings and poetry are so distant from Nature and yet, through words and art we / you conjure the magic that joins us to Nature in the most sensual way possible…
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I have always found the natural world erotic, John. Its language is physical and exquisitely sensual. Similar to the wonderful feeling of smearing paint on a surface… especially with my fingers.
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Your words are like taking that walk through forests both natural and super-natural. I am choking on the heady aromas you evoke. Wonderful.
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Thanks! I think we share a certain sensibility Chris… 🙂
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I think so too – I feel the trees humming and hear them whispering and I think you do.
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she speaks the voice of the forest… the forest in her.
Jana H., the angel of wordpress ^_^
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What a lovely thought, my dear…lovely indeed!
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My favourite tree in the Garden.
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Thank you Brian! Smiles…
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