Friday 55 Georgia O'Keefe

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Georgia O’Keefe

painted flowers.

As a teenager,
I saw:

mists of salmon pearls

blushing
to scarlet,

around powdered

grey petals

pulling out

lapis irises.

Concentric layers

of receding facets,

opening outward

and tunneling inward.

Shadows draping,

light spacing

the forms embracing:

motion,

vibration,

repeated

impressions.

Now, I so often recognize

Georgia O’Keefe

painted more than flowers.

This is a poem in 55 words.  If you want to participate on Fridays, post your short story or poem in exactly 55 words, and let G-Man know, HERE

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What is it about flowers in Spring, or on significant days, or for a funeral, or for gifts between lovers?  We know the effects of chocolate historically and biochemically.  So.... does anyone know why flowers are so intoxicating, .....really?

...
“Nobody sees a flower, really, it is so small. We haven't time - and to see takes time like to have a friend takes time.
If I could paint the flower exactly as I see it no one would see what I see because I would paint it small like the flower is small. So I said to myself - I'll paint what I see - what the flower is to me but I'll paint it big and they will be surprised into taking time to look at it - I will make even busy New Yorkers take time to see what I see of flowers.
...Well, I made you take time to look at what I saw and when you took time to really notice my flower you hung all your own associations with flowers on my flower and you write about my flower as if I think and see what you think and see of the flower - and I don't."
-Georgia O'Keeffe quotes.

-California Lupin, photo by JT Giese, 2010

Tuesday Toes

Who in immutable ways,
makes machines for art?

A nation in infancy says,
"How do you spell art?"

Power, in imagination plays:
well fed, paid, and rested for art?

We hunger, for hope, love, and days
where the soul's footing is in art.

The gift of art

Painting 5-23-08

I want to paint a tapestry
Plaid with lunar-young vines waving
Disorderly fingers too high.

I want to paint a pottery
Of brass-burnished grasses
Zen-raked by hands with plows.

I want to paint an etching
feathered with cloud curls,
to tickle your eyes.

I want to paint a dance
undulating silhouettes
of hills against the sky.

I want to paint a poem
with the spark of a solitaire
pinning the early night.

I want to paint for you an image
which catches the heart
in your unrestrained sigh.



To those who wish to hear my poems read aloud, gulp,
in 2-3 days my poems Melody Evolution and this poem, Painting, will be on a podcast of our local public radio station, KCBX.org, 90.1 FM in San Luis Obispo California, achives of Ears on Art, 12-2-09. I have done this twice now, and am having so much fun. I hope you can have the live poetry reading experience this way with me, without having to fly here.... LIVE is always better: music, theater, poetry ...personally.
Love my poetry family,
Dianne