Barbara Hepworth, sculptor:
intense burster of space
in bole movement, inert
twisting outwards, caving backwards
earth material in an age of
in-ness, this-ness,
donuts, tombstones, flowers, questing
inside – outside – outside – inside.
Andrew can’t see a point;
it’s better to sit on the floor,
let people walk round and
ignore
signals from a work of art
smiling out his inner man.
Nice pace, flows well!
ReplyDelete(I liked donuts, tombstones, flowers...)
Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteI so like Andrews point...
ReplyDeleteRegards j.
To appreciate what is, disregard what isn't and absorb that of any importance must be at times a wonderful gift in itself... your poetry promotes this idealistic way of life to me. Sometimes people hold the key to something so much deeper and more special than many of us otherwise would carry. To be able to dig within and really have the heart on the sleeve is an art from inside in itself and a beauty of a masterpiece that we may only stumble across once in a lifetime...
ReplyDeleteAn interesting ekphrastic poem, Andrew's wordless comment, and the poet's comments with words. Superb!
ReplyDelete