Final Writing Artist Posting

Today is the final day of National Poetry Month and is also Poem in Your Pocket Day! So be sure to carry a poem and share it with someone today.

It has been a wonderful learning experience to discover the art, poetry and backgrounds of so many different creative people. I hope you have enjoyed the experience as much as I did!

For my final post, I couldn’t think of one specific person I wanted to end this series with so I am ending with them ALL. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, this is the remix. I took on the challenge of creating five centos comprised of lines from each of the poems I‘ve posted throughout the month. Hope you enjoy them!

 

Rhythms

I remember

African new moon lying on her back

 

My soul features the beats of yesterday

Of coming old age

Up through the dark excuses

Always belonging to each other

 

When the merchants of language fail to bargain

I will take the sun in my mouth

The shimmering heat

Filled with the milk of mercy

Placing it right on my night stand

Among tamarindo and mango gardens

And God like geometry

And rest

 

 

Hopes

I come from a place where the bottom falls out the way the sun come up

Where your mouth has a thousand reviews

Then words won’t do: they’re words

Whose hopes are so low they are comfortable

 

 

Unspoken

It remains unchanged-

Like hail

In all the corners of my room

A quiet laugh below the thunder

Should it find a voice?

And leave us our bourbon and cigarettes

 

 

 

People

For, wash’d in life’s river

One creation matches another, in essence they are all alike

Since I was introduced to them in the very same manner

 

Reasonings

The time will come

 

That we know what?

 

One day I may not make sense

That, I will not follow you

 

 

 

~ Nia Andino ~

 

 

 

The Writing Artist- William Blake

My writing artist choice for today is English poet and painter William Blake. His art is classified under the Romantic movement and came in at number 38 on a poll of 100 Greatest Britons. Blake creatively illustrated biblical imagery mixed with mysticism and philosophy. He started as printmaker, making copies of Greek drawing his father gave him. His stubborn nature and was thought unsuitable for school by his parents and was instead set to Paris’ drawing school the Strand at age 10.  At this age, he began reading and writing poetry. Poetical Sketches was his first book of poems and went on to write 5 more in addition to illustrating and printing illuminated books. Below is his poem Night.

 

Night

THE sun descending in the west,

The evening star does shine;

The birds are silent in their nest.

And I must seek for mine.

The moon, like a flower

In heaven's high bower,

With silent delight

Sits and smiles on the night.

Farewell, green fields and happy grove,

Where flocks have took delight:

Where lambs have nibbled, silent move

The feet of angels bright;

Unseen they pour blessing

And joy without ceasing

On each bud and blossom,

And each sleeping bosom.

They look in every thoughtless nest

Where birds are cover'd warm;

They visit caves of every beast,

To keep them all from harm:

If they see any weeping

That should have been sleeping,

They pour sleep on their head,

And sit down by their bed.

When wolves and tigers howl for prey,

They pitying stand and weep,

Seeking to drive their thirst away

And keep them from the sheep.

But, if they rush dreadful,

The angels, most heedful,

Receive each mild spirit,

New worlds to inherit.

And there the lion's ruddy eyes

Shall flow with tears of gold:

And pitying the tender cries,

And walking round the fold:

Saying, 'Wrath, by His meekness,

And, by His health, sickness,

 Are driven away

 From our immortal day.

'And now beside thee, bleating lamb,

 I can lie down and sleep,

Or think on Him who bore thy name,

Graze after thee, and weep.

For, wash'd in life's river,

My bright mane for ever

Shall shine like the gold

As I guard o'er the fold.'

 

-        William Blake

~ Nia Andino ~