Tuesday, January 18, 2011



Brush laden with Titanium white,
the master pointillist in the sky
dot-dab, dot-dab.

One snow drop after another
kisses the earthen canvas,
until the path is buried,
the branches bowed.
dot-dab, dot-dab,

Winter birds huddle in the cedar.
On the porch, the old bell
chimes in the wind,
a slow, somber tone,
dong, dong, dong, dong.

At dusk,
the painter
caps the tube of paint, scrapes the
pallet, cleans her brush
in the swift immortal stream,
satisfied and complete.

an exercise to use these four words: bell, kisses, immortal, branches. Otherwise I would not have used the word "immortal" which was a difficult one. Too heavy.


Tess Kincaid said...

Wonderful wintery poem. I love the dot-dab of the pointillist. Titanium white takes me straight back to my old painting days. One of my goals is to buy some new paints and canvas this year.

studio lolo said...

I really like this one Suki. And I can hear that bell clearly.

We're supposed to be getting an ice storm, but much closer to KJ's area.

A good day for art and baby ravens ;)


kj said...

i hear a ticking clock, suki. your brush strokes are that precise here. you are a master poet; like lo, how creative in so many mediums.

there is titanium white falling outside this very moment here. i'll bet for you too. for me it's another day to cancel work, maybe catch up with a desk that feels abandoned.

love love

Lisa at Greenbow said...

Wow Suki, I really like this poem. So much action. I can feel the rhythym of the snow storm.

Cris, Artist in Oregon said...

Love how you worked all the words in with painting. Lovely poem.

marianne said...

Lovely winter poem together with this sunny winter shot, makes me feel winter is OK!
And it is sometimes :)

Hope you are doing fine dear!
Got a surprise in the mail......will mail you;)

Stay warm and safe!

patti said...

Beautiful poetry - it matches the photo perfectly!

Anonymous said...

WOW! This poem is among my favorites! Excellent metaphors. I think used used "immortal" very well. The immortal stream never dries up... like she's cleaning her brush in creativity... the paint washes away but the creative juices cling on... until the brush is used again.