Hi Damian, your poem really makes me feel the beauty of nature and the rhythm of life. At the same time, it quietly speaks about how fleting human life is. You know, in Japan people often say “life is fifty years,” and when I was young, I never imagined I’d live almost up to seventy. But even if we can’t fight the flow of time, moments of beauty and memories like this still stay with us, don’t they?
Thank-you Keiichiro. Yes and I agree about how fast our lives seem to be speeding by. I’m 56 and have only a ten year old son. This makes me feel it even more acutely. And Noel Tunks, the Artist. I had him as an art teacher in high school. He had had such amazing success in the decade before becoming a humble high school teacher. I don’t know how or why he did it. It was hard work and he probably needed the money as painters often need to do.
I recognise that some of his last paintings were of landscapes, in the country here. He perhaps was trying to make time stop, which is what a painting magically does. Perhaps we need to be painted (that would make a good idea for a poem). Thanks for reading.
Beautiful poem and I really enjoyed reading about your creative process. I loved that painting you linked to of the grass. I've long been fascinated by the beauty of the view or the grass outside my window in our meadow the long graceful stems and dancing golden heads lit against the dark oaks behind them. I try to capture that in photos, but they never do it justice. Perhaps someday in paint.
Thanks for sharing the Whiteley painting. That’s what the land is like around here at the moment. Waiting for rain. The Splendid Wren in his painting is farther north though.
A beautiful poem, Damian. Thank you for sharing your creative process with this poem. I wonder if the image that came to my mind matches your inspiration? It does evoke the feeling/mood you describe here. My writing, too, usually sits in my thoughts and observations long before it hits the page. One thing I noticed in your comments about writing is the importance of curiosity - Yes!
Yes Curiosity. It’s strange if I am lost for inspiration for coming up with an idea for a new poem, I have to let myself follow that curiosity and have faith in where is takes me.
Thank you for that beautiful poem (...) it touches something that can never be fully described in words. But there is something in all those things we see...in the way the light moves across the landscape, in old trees, even in all those places, where no one wants to live.
I’ve always found it fascinating how Camus holds that tension ... the absurd on one side, and almost a spiritual connection to landscape on the other.
Hi Damian, your poem really makes me feel the beauty of nature and the rhythm of life. At the same time, it quietly speaks about how fleting human life is. You know, in Japan people often say “life is fifty years,” and when I was young, I never imagined I’d live almost up to seventy. But even if we can’t fight the flow of time, moments of beauty and memories like this still stay with us, don’t they?
Thank-you Keiichiro. Yes and I agree about how fast our lives seem to be speeding by. I’m 56 and have only a ten year old son. This makes me feel it even more acutely. And Noel Tunks, the Artist. I had him as an art teacher in high school. He had had such amazing success in the decade before becoming a humble high school teacher. I don’t know how or why he did it. It was hard work and he probably needed the money as painters often need to do.
I recognise that some of his last paintings were of landscapes, in the country here. He perhaps was trying to make time stop, which is what a painting magically does. Perhaps we need to be painted (that would make a good idea for a poem). Thanks for reading.
Love this poem. And the video.
Thanks, Kathleen. I’m glad you did.
You’re welcome, Damian
Lovely poem - I would love to visit the land where technology ends. At least once a month or so.
Yes. Me too. I almost kept that line for another poem, but I kept it in.
Beautiful poem and I really enjoyed reading about your creative process. I loved that painting you linked to of the grass. I've long been fascinated by the beauty of the view or the grass outside my window in our meadow the long graceful stems and dancing golden heads lit against the dark oaks behind them. I try to capture that in photos, but they never do it justice. Perhaps someday in paint.
Yes. I know what you mean about being unable to capture something as simple as the shape and movement of long grass in a photograph or painting.
Perhaps long ago humans were good at seeing, watching, wondering about long grass. Hungry lionesses gave us a six sense about grass.
Beautiful Damian
Thank-you Jodie. I’m glad you thought so.
Beautiful!
I love the windmill video.... The Noel Tunks painting link too. His painting reminded me of the much later work by Brett Whitely - "Summer at Carcoar." https://samtaylorweb.wordpress.com/2016/05/08/xcxvdfgdfgdf/
Dave :)
Thanks for sharing the Whiteley painting. That’s what the land is like around here at the moment. Waiting for rain. The Splendid Wren in his painting is farther north though.
Beautiful poem - I read the poem first and then looked at the painting, and it was exactly what your words had brought to my mind.
A beautiful poem, Damian. Thank you for sharing your creative process with this poem. I wonder if the image that came to my mind matches your inspiration? It does evoke the feeling/mood you describe here. My writing, too, usually sits in my thoughts and observations long before it hits the page. One thing I noticed in your comments about writing is the importance of curiosity - Yes!
Yes Curiosity. It’s strange if I am lost for inspiration for coming up with an idea for a new poem, I have to let myself follow that curiosity and have faith in where is takes me.
Wonderful writing.
Thank you for that beautiful poem (...) it touches something that can never be fully described in words. But there is something in all those things we see...in the way the light moves across the landscape, in old trees, even in all those places, where no one wants to live.
I’ve always found it fascinating how Camus holds that tension ... the absurd on one side, and almost a spiritual connection to landscape on the other.
I tried to be normal but that kestrel cutting into the wind made me grin like an idiot~ So good.