Steve Fleming

Artist Studio

Painting and Poetry

Here is a painting with a poem that I wrote a while ago and I struggled so much with it I quit writing poems.  It was just too hard.  Whine whine.  I will try to get back on the horse and try to start writing again.  Sorry for being away so long.

Painting & Poetry
Watercolors

Here is a painting with a poem that I wrote a while ago and I struggled so much with it I quit writing poems.  It was just too hard.  Whine whine.  I will try to get back on the horse and try to start writing again.  Sorry for being away so long.

The Storm

 

The storm rose like a banshee

And began a frontal assault on the house,

It raged and screamed

a shiver past midnight, keeping

me lying on a razor

sweating fear

knotted in nerves,

It roared like Lucifer’s coal train

Pouring smoke and spitting thunder.

Tree branches scratched and dug

into the cedar shakes etching

wild psychotic scribbles.

the wind drove the rain

it rattled, flooded, and

sagged tired gutters with

bone jarring percussion,

like bowling balls

slamming down storm drains

 

Leaves and acorns peppered the windows

With the erratic din of ricocheting bullets

The metal roof vibrated, whining and whaling

like a demented tuning fork,

rain blew in horizontal bands

hammering the wavy glass

with the angry intensity of attacking hornets.

 

All through the night

We suffered a violent home invasion,

how long could this old weathered house survive

without raising its’ white flag

and falling to its knees in capitulation?

 

 

With the rising sun

The storm left through the back door

gently turning the knob

so as not to wake the baby.

 

Outside walking with the dogs

I surveyed the carnage,

The yard looked like God had pitched a temper tantrum

And dumped all his favorite toys on top of the house.

Then stomped and kicked them into every corner of the yard

everything smashed, crushed and obliterated.

Branches and leaves were plastered on every flat surface

Like a drunk’s decoupage

Everything had the trashed look of a frat house

the morning after

the homecoming kegger

 

Storm clouds blew from the south

and waved goodbye as they raced out

across to the northern ridge of the Appalachians,

Blue sky risked a peek between the speeding clouds,

The sun shed slivers of promise on the hills and valleys

And clouds hung in the hollows

floating like the cool mists of Avalon.

 

Hidden inside the storms of yesterday

There exists the bright glow of a new day.

The sparkle of raindrops on blades of grass

Nature’s twinkling stars

Lay there holding

a galaxy of tomorrow’s dreams.

5 Comments on “Painting and Poetry”

  1. Shaken and moved by the powerful imagery of both the poem and the painting. Glad you did not give up. My granddaughter, aged five loved the angry hornets. 

    • Thanks Heather and I believe if a 5 year old gets anything out of a poem, good for our future generation.

  2. Tus poemas te cuestan un esfuerzo, pero dejan tus entrañas y expresan tus sentimientos. No abandones por favor. Steve, tengo una pregunta para ti. Cuando escribes tus poemas, los haces inspirado por el paisaje, o por tu propia interpretación del paisaje en tu acuarela, o pintas la acuarela inspirada para ilustrar tu poesía. Las acuarelas y los poemas son tan buenos que no sé cuál está inspirado en cuál. Gracias, respetuosamente Mercedes.

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