Blog Check In #5

Imagine a cloudless sky of blue…sustained by coffee, unshaven, marinating in my own funk, tired…typing, so much typing, reading, so much reading…all clouds. I observe them, let them float away…Get outta here clouds.

It’s only been a few weeks back in school after years away, suddenly looking forward to summer. Puttin’ smarts in my brain is tough stuff.

Sometimes, its the pure simple moments that make the day. Last night, just before bed, my puppy and I yawned at the same time. That’s all. We both yawned at the same moment, and he won my heart all over again.

Free Verse, I’m so happy you’re here. I respect meter, structure, but I just want to feel the words and write them down. My postcard poem is such a profound moment for me. I have no idea where it’s all coming from, but I am emotional about this one. I started forming lines during class writing time, and unexpectedly found myself tearing up. I want to give this subject my utmost respect.  As of now, I dont have an ego-tripping poem draft. This one is causing me to glitch. Where to go with it? I might have an idea bubbling towards the surface soon. I’m looking forward to the song lyrics poem coming up, and almost immediately had my song examples picked out. “The Circle Game” by Joni Mitchell because I think she’s fascinating and that song has such truth to it. Basically, any song from Depeche Mode is going to pull a response from me. They are beyond inspiring, yet I am narrowing it down to their Ultra album, and most likely “Sister of night.”

This week I was pleased with my pantoum about pants. I thought to myself, am I gonna go there? Yup, I absolutely am. Because there’s nothing that haunts me more than the gorgeous male figure encased in denim. It was the most fun I’ve had creating a design for my draft to turn in.

That’s all for blogging now, my blue sky brain is fogging up. Darn clouds.

Pantoum

As described in my writing worksheet: “These are poems about obsession. They keep going over and over certain images. Whatever haunts us, annoys us, excites us-that’s the province of the pantoum.”

LuckyJeans2

“Pants-toum” 

A man in blue jeans, behold the sight.

I steal a glance when he walks by.

Whether he’s contained by zipper, or button fly.

Oh stitch! How have you held across his thighs? 

I steal a glance when he walks by.

A measure of snugness, roundness, fit causes reaction.

Oh stitch! How have you held across his thighs?

See the wear, the tear, a rugged man.

A measure of snugness, roundness, fit causes reaction.

A visual feast for hungry eyes

See the wear, the tear, my kind of man.

Wearing Wranglers, Lucky, and Levis too.

He’s perfect poured into a denim mold.

A man in blue jeans, behold the sight.

I stay to watch while he walks away.

Whether he’s contained by zipper, or button fly.

~Gordon Hays 2013

 

Blank Verse

mrsketch

Untitled

These tiny little magic wands I love,

creating wonder, hours full of fun.

Name the colors of imagination:

A jubilee of melted popsicle,

leftovers escape dripping down my chin.

Citrus just within reach, plucked peeled and juiced.

Like a brilliant burst of sour squeeze,

hanging bright and shiny in summer sky.

As freshness sealed in tiny leaves, as gum

I chew, enjoying my kissable breath.

Wild ones, polka dot my morning muffin.

In the vineyard find these bunches hanging,

 or savor late and call it cabernet.

Warm rich spice, dusting atop a latte.

Chewy candy ropes of coal, dark and sweet,

smuggled into the movie theater.

All of these I use, filling many books

and pages blank. I let the image rise.

~Gordon Hays 2013

 

Blog Check In #4

“If I were to wish for anything, I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of the potential, for the eye which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible. Pleasure disappoints, possibility never.”

~Soren Kiekegaard, Danish philosopher (1813-55)

When I write, or create in general, I am often engaging my child self. We are a team of delight and inspiration. That’s why I had so much fun with this week’s writing tasks. As part of our writing challenge for a blank verse poem, we were instructed to choose something from our five senses as the subject. I sat quietly in class, taking a moment to ponder…hmm, what to write about? I was thinking about sight, and the many colors I could choose, but as an artist I have a difficult time choosing one. So, perhaps a rainbow? No, no, that’s an easy stereotype to slip into. Scent, that’s intriguing…color, scent…aha! mr.sketch scented markers. (imagine a thought bubble brightly illuminated by a lightbulb) I hadn’t thought about my favorite childhood markers in years. I decided this would also be a great subject since I would be able to incorporate an artistic embellishment into the assignment as well.

It became a kind of scavenger hunt to track down a pack of markers. They are not found easily. But, I thought it was important to buy a pack to have in hand as I wrote my verse. It became a fun challenge, to seek out my source of inspiration and figure out how to describe these markers without naming them directly.

Another item on the scavenger hunt: find a postcard for Thursdays class. Octopus Garden in Uptown Richland was the spot to find it. I recalled a few racks of unique postcard images from previous trips to the store. So, I took a trip to the little gift shop and had fun seeking out a good one.

When homework piles up, infusing my projects with a sense of play definitely lightens the load, and allows me to enjoy the process of learning.

Blog Check In #3

“Wisdom tells me I am nothing. Love tells me I am everything. Between these two my life flows.”

~Nisargadatta Maharaj

Last week was a difficult week, but also a great one. First half of the week I really struggled. Things were not flowing and I struggled to write my sonnet. I’ve noticed that creativity cannot be forced, you must surrender to it. This is true if I’m having writer’s block or stuck within a painting. The more effort I put into forcing it, the less I achieve. So, I stop and feel. Just feel and allow my emotions to shape into words…and everything flows. I was disappointed that I didn’t add an artistic embellishment to my assignment, but there is time to do that when I turn in a final version. There is a process to creating, and I do consider writing a form of creation, that is both difficult but ultimately satisfying. An inspired work can nourish me for days. 

Watching a movie yesterday, there was one scene showing a well traveled bridge, empty, the morning sun shining  down on it. Disaster loomed, and yet still the sun rises. And the thought came to me…it is somewhere between grit and serenity. That’s where I reside.

Puppy Love

Bucky4

“Puppy Love”

Oh, just a puppy kind of love they say.
When days are filled with sloppy kisses so.
Whether playing fetch, tug of war or stay,
wherever he runs, so does my heart go.
I wake to nuzzle before the sun’s rise.
I bury my nose in his soft black fur.
Forever a friend found in deep brown eyes.
Even walks to poop can be a pleasure.
Alas, before he came, all hope seemed lost.
A man alone in need of rescue,
unconditional love I needed most.
A pup arrived to heal a heart so blue.
Now write a sonnet for little Bucky.
Because he chose me, I feel so lucky.

~Gordon Hays 2013

Dear Joe

DearJoe

“Dear Joe”

Dear Joe, don’t go. I long for more.
Stay, your stain upon my lips, I beg…oh, please.
Every taste is a pleasure, like none before.
Morning after morning, my heart does soar.
Is it any wonder the night plays cruelest tease?
Dear Joe, don’t go. I long for more.
You and I bound together at our core.
A day without you, and I brim with endless unease.
Every taste is a pleasure, like none before.
Why fight, why resist your frothy pour?
Down, down, I drink your dark brewed seas.
Dear Joe, don’t go. I long for more.
Some might say I am your whore.
Your fluid ounces I greedily seize.
Every taste is a pleasure, like none before.
No life imaginable without your grind, nor
searing sips as these.
Dear Joe, don’t go. I long for more.
Every taste is a pleasure, like none before.

~Gordon Hays 2013