A few poems
A Poem about Rodin
for Cathy Roberts Bird
(Left-Aligned)
To have been taught by someone,
who was taught by someone
who was taught by Rodin
is my explanation for the clay pieces
that
burst from my hands...
To have been taught to teach,
by my teacher
(Martine)
and you Cathy, by example,
makes my students in turn
produce those works of art
that make you gasp, amazes them
and gives
another twist
to the mystique of Rodin's legacy
and our creative
power
to stand on our own feet
yet be imbued by masters
of
yesterday - with pride.
March 1995
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Affinity Babe
Born an affinity babe
Hungry for love, for the strokes
Of a hand, and other strokes
For the
fleeting smile of friends
For the purring of the cat
The closeness
born of intimate
Sharings of secrets, and other intercourse
With
fellow humans
Fellow spirits, fellow seekers
Born an affinity
babe
Always an affinity babe, nurtured by warmth
The occupying of
common space
The knowledge of mutual knowledge
By the reaching out,
and up, and beyond
The barriers of social veneer
July 1994
Progress or
Evolutions
The path has to be walked.
Every minute of every
day, walked or run
With high spirits
Or regret - our or my choice.
Playing victim is easy, the path of least resistance.
Being
strong, bearing forward on one's course
Requires pride and confidence.
Missing the absent ones, the long-gone friends and lovers
Yearning for satisfaction, now.
Or enjoying the here and the now and
looking ahead.
The path has to be walked.
Small steps, long strides,
giant leaps
I/we go into the face of eons of accumulated garbage
Seeking truth, making progress, undergoing evolutions.
Here a change,
there a change.
Change is what we dream of it and make of it.
And part
and parcel of the journey is the struggle.
Joy bubbles up at the odd
moment,
Obstacles are overcome.
And each today spawns tomorrows of my
making.
June 1994
The Festival
A
festival of paintings
Dances danced and tunes sung
A gathering of
artists multi-lingual
Multi-cultural, single-mindedly
Employed in
displaying their souls
To each other, to the camera
To an audience
enthralled...
Meeting minds, meeting fellows
Intertwined in their
thoughts
In an exchange of notes
Of strokes on instruments, or
canvases
Or sculptured armatures
Rejoicing in their skills
And
in the art of life
A festival of spirits
Dancing free, singing free,
playing free
Standing tall, in unison
Beneath the mellow warmth of
spotlights
Or alone, revealing
And sharing themselves
Point/counter point
Step/counter step
High notes, low notes
Displays of generous gifts
And above all the message
That art is/has
been/will always be
Communication
August 1994
Valentine's Day Skiing
Heaven can wait
But fresh powder
snow can't
The peaks beckon, so
We rise up and up and up again...
Beyond the trees, beyond the birds
Beyond the morning mist
Lying snug across the mountainscape,
We rise up and up and up again.
We feel the crunch beneath our weight
The sun hot upon cool faces
Feel the wind rushing past our ears, and
We rise up and up and up
again.
Then down we go, laughter bubbling
Along the way, ringing
loud and shrill.
The thrill of downhill beckons now
Down, down,
downward bound.
We stop, we look at glaciers and each other
Our
many faces flushed with joy
We talk of falls and paths to follow
Down, down, downward bound.
We twist and turn, dancers on the snow
Sweet valentines, my mountain mates and I.
We drink the air, we
breathe the sun
Down, down, downward bound.
February 1995
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