October park
We walk the park and remember the impressionists in your weekly poetry dose #164
Coloured trees
and autumn sunlight paint
an impressionist painting on a
surface rippled by birds
migrating.
Just west of Paris you can find the Pays des Impressionistes, the Land of the Impressionists. Especially in autumn, it’s easy to see why this was an ideal place to sit outside and record your impressions with paint on canvas. The many trees, the rolling landscape and the meandering flow of the Seine, combined with the amazing light gives wonderful impressions wherever you look. Maybe I’m a bit of an impressionist, too. Through my poems I like to share my impression of what I see, in the hope you will compare it to what your impression is and then find out for yourself how you can combine the two in the most fitting way. Meanwhile hoping to show that multiple ways of seeing things can co-exist. Because, well, we humans, we can co-exist as well.
Poetics in life
This lovely video tells you more about the impressionist painters.
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Poetry elsewhere
Love, and happiness, can be found in the most ordinary of things. Maybe it’s red leaves reflected in the park pond, and maybe it’s berry jam on a table edge, as
describes so beautifully in his poem Why We Should Be Happy With Berry Jam on Table Edges. Enjoy the read, and find beauty in the ordinary today:
As you may know, the poetry I write often take the form of the tritriplicata, a poetic form I created with inspiration from the haiku. There was something about responses to haiku that I didn’t like, and I felt that the form did not always it what I wanted to write. It was certainly not because I do not love haiku. Quite the contrary. There’s a lot of beauty to be found in them. One artist, known as The Art of Haiku Collection, makes lovely haiku that can be collected, too. I really liked this one, The Great Wave Off Kanagawa Part Two.
We look for the beauty in ordinary things, we try to find love in the smallest of signs. But we need to keep that flame burning. Especially when some of us pass on, or move on, or fade out of sight, we must tend the flame. The flame of friendship, kindness, love, peace even. This poem by
is a beautiful exploration of that idea:
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