Man, impatient with Human races, coaxing
faces,
Grinning out of rock.
Not for him bright conversation, his
language
Fluent, from his hands
His microphone a chisel, his audience a
stone.
Stranger in a world of communication
My Artisan.
faces,
Grinning out of rock.
Not for him bright conversation, his
language
Fluent, from his hands
His microphone a chisel, his audience a
stone.
Stranger in a world of communication
My Artisan.
And yet different worlds can often co-exist in harmony ? Hopefully a little harmony to be found in faces appearing from stones... My artisan... sounds affectionate.
ReplyDeleteWas just thinking of you when I saw there was this new post... I finally just now got around to sending a message to the olive oil people at Haut Jasson, and am looking forward to perhaps ordering a small gift for the Grenouille from there... maybe even in time for xmas if I'm not too late ... it does look good from the photos and description on the oleigest site... many thanks for that !
So, with the extra dogs gone to new homes, I guess your place is a tad bit quieter now ? And any signs of your pony ?
An appreciative ode to a lucky man - and a side to your writing that I hadn't yet seen (although that might be only because I haven't read every single thing you've posted). I laughed at the label!
ReplyDeleteOwen, "Same planet, different Worlds" is not a criticism, in fact it is an understanding that we see things so differently that our expectations of one another must adapt, move beyond merely tolerating one another to a sense of wonderment at another point of view.
ReplyDeleteI'll return to pony stuff soon. I am healing a sprained tendon in an ankle twisted months ago. "Sit and Stay!" said the Doctor. I have been trying to dress for Christmas parties without wearing heels. Luckily riding boots are in Vogue this season. I think I pulled it off on Friday. I cleaned my boots before I went amongst the beautiful ones! :)
I really liked this revealing and sensitive post. You express yourself naturally and honestly. I appreciate that in a writer.
ReplyDeleteVery sweet with a lonely feel to it.
ReplyDeleteStranger in a world of communication...
ReplyDeleteLovely.
Even just the word artisan is romantic isn't it!
ReplyDeleteI loved reading this, it is a deeply romantic little thing. A captured moment in a dusty, sunlit workshop.. all shadows and turpentine and sketches.... :-)
Your new style has the charisma of Wilde, and the elegance of Yeats. I liked it.
ReplyDeleteA lot.
Nice expression of the artistic temperament. So often, artists I have known have little patience with the so-called "real" world of the human race and much prefer their own artistic version of it....quite often a truth sharper and far more perceptive.
ReplyDeleteNice, simple language speaking a wealth of wisdom. And such strong imagery "his microphone a chisel, his audience a stone." Powerful expression of his intensity and determination to speak through his art.
What a tribute.
Jean, an artist must, by definition, have a certain ego, if not why would he believe his art worth creating? He must also be somewhat isolated, searching internally for his muse, not to be influenced by others. Hard won insight, believe me!
ReplyDeleteJimmy, Your words mean a lot. This is personal. I wrote it for my husband, my artisan, one birthday. It has meaning for me and so is hard to judge. (Most of the time I want to kill him).
Watercats, Ah, the smell of turpentine...
Pliers, unlike your artisan.
ReplyDelete@eloh, alone like trees, not lonely, self-sufficient.
Martin, thank you. It is better to determine to love reality than to continually fail to love.
I never did understand poetry.
ReplyDelete