walked by one of mine
stopped to straightened it
in pause i saw
captured in arranged space
the shelf and wall
with objects irregularly lined,
positioned with care
as painted there
in restful scene forever.
working the morning hour
every day for less than a week
to collect the relative same natural light
before the sun moves and light changes.
in reflection of colors,
a recreation of the space,
this representative reproduction
as I see, as I do
within time available
a man makes art
then hangs it on the wall
Monday, November 28, 2011
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1 comment:
Your title works so well with this poem. I enjoyed reading it, and picturing you straightening the painting which you created, reflecting on the process while describing it. "A man makes art, then hangs it on the wall," is the perfect ending, and the perfect beginning. It is peaceful and productive and evidential; your poem works on many levels.
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