Couture for Cloud Beings – A Poem

Clouds Couture

Image Credit – Pixabay.  Clouds Couture

Couture for Cloud Beings – A Poem
by Ama Danesi

To think I could be invisible
relieved from this pall of doom
Dressed in a mass of veils –
and adorn the skies
and drenched in heaven’s pearls.
To go where divine ball-gowns are made
with silver lining corsets,
with stitches – the thinnest threads of sparkling stars.
How I would be tickled pink –
to wear a cloud someday.

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I Choose You Again – My Wild, My Rose

I Chose You Again, My wild, My rose

Credit: Google Images

Are you camp “Old Fashioned” or “Fifty Shades of Grey”? This valentine we reflect on why we chose or love or hurt the one we are with. Pain is inevitable in love but not pain in self-depreciating shades. We forgive the edges in well-deployed words and actions that rip into old wounds, choosing to return to wild, breathless passion. Love can be traumatic, so trust has to be implicit.

Trust that beneath the flares, your love is still wild about you. Which is why I am firmly in camp Old-Fashioned. The movie reminds us that love is patient, because we all fall flat on our faces. As the trailer says, “Love is about a girl and a boy looking for something more.” Is something more – bondage, whips, handcuffs and games? Who needs sexual fantasies about hurting and disrespecting each other? Love is not always pretty – that’s life but we are basically old-fashioned and frayed along the edges. Our hearts need safe place, a home – picket fence and all.

Trust is a phenomenal aphrodisiac. Romance is worth its weight in red rose bouquets and it takes a good girl or boy to blow your mind. (Thanks Jessie J.)  This day, I choose love – old-fashioned, familiar but wild.

I chose you wild rose

Credit: Pixabay Images

“The Wild Rose” by Wendell Berry

Sometimes hidden from me
in daily custom and in trust,
so that I live by you unaware
as by the beating of my heart,

Suddenly you flare in my sight
a wild rose blooming at the edge
of thicket, grace and light
where yesterday was only shade,

and once again I am blessed, choosing
again what I chose before.

The Making of a Craftsman or Artisan

http://pixabay.com/en/paint-art-image-artists-painting-198735/

Credit: Pixabay Images – An Artist

Whoever said creativity was easy, a buzz from the subconscious, has not been through the dark night of the soul. I have. I wept with my protagonist wondering, why…why am I doing this to myself?  So lately I’ve been spent. Drained by the sheer grit of finishing the first draft of my novel and now with trepidation, I’m commencing the rewrite process.

Erwin McManus of  MOSAIC said, “the person who steals is terrified of creating.” Now you know the reason for our overcrowded county jails. Creativity is soul-breaking hard work, demanding diligence, responsibility and a thick-skin to withstand inevitable criticism. Yes, Criticism. My retainers are proof that I can look at my reflection (cute as I am *-*) and still find fault. Nobody wears halos, visors maybe. 

Wikipedia Commons -  A Craftsman at work

Wikipedia Commons – A Craftsman at work

The craftsman shows up and plugs away, like someone possessed by the need to show themselves worthy of another sunrise. I must admit these last few weeks has been hard for me. I’m like a brow-beaten Lebron James, after losing 2014 NBA finals to the Spurs, soaking his weary muscles in a bathtub of epsom salts and reprimanding his kids, “I don’t want to hear anything about basketball.”

Here’s what I did today to avoid writing:

  1. Washed my hair and deep conditioned it twice.
  2. Created a head full of twists ( that accounted for 55 mins.)
  3. Browsed used car websites – Craigslist, CarGuru, KBB, Recycler , then Mercedes-Benz of Beverly Hills for a good deal on a Mercedes-Benz CLS-Class CLS 550 Coupe, steel-gray body and ash-black leather interior.
  4. Searched online for a white gown (Service of songs; dress code – white) and  in the process, I was sorely tempted to buy ten pounds of  Kansas City steak from QVC and from HSN, Twiggy London’ s flag-inspired tee-shirts.
  5. Served myself two large scoops of vanilla bean ice-cream.
  6. Teared up as I went through three trunks of my native African clothes, reminiscing about each occasion that called for another gele* (African headgear)
  7. Read and deleted spam comments (Yep… Akismet obviously needs help)

Then something good happened. I decided I’d better write or feel guilty when I step on my scale tomorrow on account my creamy indulgence. Motivation can come from anywhere, as far as it works. As artists when we stay away from our craft, we experience an unsettling, a foreboding that time is slipping away and with it the miracle of chances.

If we wait too long, it’s so easy to slip into a dissatisfied and depressed state. Off-track we get moody and our words become wind – destructive, unkind – blowing restless in all direction of our lives. Now I’m learning to pray – Lord, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, can you please create through me today?

 Let him who stole steal no longer, but rather let him labor, working with his hands what is good, that he may have something to give him who has need. Eph. 4:28 (NKJV)

Art is everywhere. This  video shows Segun Gele, a Nigerian *gele artist profiled on CNN, reveling in the work of his hands.
If you haven’t…you’ve got to read  The War of Art by Steven Pressfield.

Fight the resistance. Be encouraged. Create something that makes you smile today 🙂

Letting Life Clarify the Can’t

 

Credit: unmistaken-proverbs

Credit: unmistaken-proverbs

 

Letting Life Clarify the Can’t.

You can’t dodge the pain
You can’t get it right all the time
Make a fool out of yourself trying…
It’s OK.
Soon you’ll recognize that sinking nudge to run
the other direction. You’ll get familiar with
balls of lead in your mouth, the gravel in your throat.
That’s a good place to ask – Why?
Life grows wild through clarifying questions
Adventures barrage through the stench of cants
An impossible dream becomes an uneasy destination
Unbutton those ears – you’ll arrive somehow
Breathe as you fumble – it is well
Your days come served as ordered.

Ama Danesi

 

Unsightly Edges – A Poem

Unsightly Edges – A Poem
By Ama Danesi

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There’s a knock, a hesitant rap on my nape
from pain that’s testing, peering over
my delicate collar-bone for a crack
in my steely resolve.
My need for more is a palmed heat.
I’m done with squatters. He can still smell me
in his nostrils. He lingers, a familiar high –

Every pain has a home, a coach, an itch
my arteries make poor hallways – C’est le vie
Inside me there’s a chisel, a hammer
and a chipping away.
Sandpaper the hurting, unclog the
bleeding, I pretend he feels the same – till I can’t
He’ll remain a lump, holding on to unsightly edges.