This is a poem I wrote last summer, for the SoCS writing prompt. I was talking to someone today about what my art, poetry and writing meant to me, and thought I’d repost this for those who had never seen it.
A picture was painted this morning
By the artist-at-large
In this world.
It is a sensory work of art,
the green of the leaves on the trees,
The blue of the sky
the scent of lavender,
the cool, almost imperceptible breeze,
rustling the leaves,
gently caressing my body.
The rich cup of coffee in front of me.
The sound of birds singing,
Neighbors dogs barking
And oddly the sound of cars on the road in the far distance.
I try to recreate the painting
With my words.
I try to make the reader feel it,
Because it seems to fabulous not to share.
I suppose that is what art is, to me.
The sharing of our emotions in such a way
As to evoke a similar response
Or a response at all,
From someone else.
I love art that makes me feel.
I love a book, or a post, or a movie, or a painting,
Or a piece of jewelry or pottery or a poem
That can make me cry, or laugh hysterically.
I want to feel.
Feeling lets me know I’m alive.
Art lets me know I’m alive,
When it makes me feel.
Inspires me to feel.
I hope that I also do that
In some small way
With my art.
With my writing,
Or my jewelry.
I hope it inspires people to feel.
Mostly to feel good.
To broaden their perspective,
To lift their gaze.
Or, just leaves someone a little happier for having run across it.
Art, is, it seems,
A wonderful way to extend love in this world.
By Deborah E. Dayen