Thursday, June 10, 2010

in the fog, alone

through the fog
the gently defined edges
of a fence

a tree hovers
arms gently flailing

alfred sisley a foggy morning, voisins

a silent figure
hunched over her work

her work
to gather

to gather
mint, lavender, sage

and flowers
for the table

silent work
but for the birds
(their voices like small muffled bells)

colourless work
but for the flowers
(their faces shrouded in fog-lace)

the scent of water
and blossoms
as unlikely as light
in the heavy air


jinksy said...

Your words are the soul of the painting...

Annie said...

I enjoy how your poem reveals the senses inherent in the painting, and how your tone and rhythm evokes the feeling of the fog, and how the story of the woman comes into focus for the reader as she bends to her work, making of her a living person in a real world, a feeling the artist also captured.

Friko said...

steven, as so often I am lost in admiration at your perfect combination of image and words.

steven said...

jinksy it's such a beautiful painting and there's a moment of such humanity it was as open as the widest doorway could be. steven

steven said...

annie i'm glad that you saw and felt all of that. when i came across the painting i was taken by its simplicity and especially the fact that thr artist thought it a moment worthy of painting. steven

steven said...

thankyou very much friko. steven

Pauline said...

"the scent of water
and blossoms
as unlikely as light
in the heavy air"

that is a truly beautiful gathering of words!

steven said...

thanks pauline! steven

Golden West said...

Lovely, Steven. Amazing how the artist wove the same bluish lavender from the sky right down through the flowerbeds and across the ground. Your blog is like an oasis.

Elisabeth said...

Flowers as 'muffled bells' and 'fog lace'. Wonderful, Steven Thanks.

ellen abbott said...

I like the painting but I think I would have liked it better without the figure.

Valerianna said...

code 23... was THAT the code? Well, you know what I mean!!

Linda Sue said...

what a comfort- You, your blog- For some reason I feel so safe here - my stuffed emotions well up and flood all over the place- softly, mind you...not crazy hysteria...though my dog is looking at me as though that is not the case...Thanks for this safety zone. Just right for today, now- with all that is going on- whew, thanks!Beautiful post, lavender, comfort.

steven said...

golden west - i like visiting here myself!!! i'm pleased you enjoy your time here also. steven

steven said...

elisabeth i love th way fog dulls the dges of all sensory experience. once you get past trying to make things clearer and feel it as the soft-edged thing that it is , it's really lovely isn't it. steven

steven said...

ellen - that's interesting to me. i wonder why you think that? steven

steven said...

valerianna - i have no numerical codes but i know that lorenzo does. so thanks!! steven

Valerianna said...

Well, then, let me be specific... someone left the code as a comment on your blog a few posts back (probably many back by now...) and it was something like...
when I want to say this is really beautiful, I'll just write code 23... or some such thing. So, my attempt at codes and brevity failed, though it seemed you understood... I guess I'll stick with words...

So - I liked this a lot...

Noelle said...

Hello Steven,
I love the poem and the painting, its colors and its subject. I think the the silent and colorless work of gathering that this solitary figure does bears a certain integrity because she does it for love. She gathers herbs and flowers to adorn her table and make it pleasing for herself and all who come round to see her. She is hunched over her work in the fog and the tree bears down on the scene emphasizing her toil while the rows of lavender frame the edge of the scene and offer some brightness and joy, their faces yet "shrouded in fog-lace" (lovely-it is a bit like that isn't it).
She is like you, Steven. You spend time gathering beautiful pictures and words to put together a pleasing work of art and a blog where all feel at home. We stop by and "the scent of water and blossoms hangs as unlikely as light in the heavy air." We sense it, even after we have left you and walk out again, shrouded in the misty curtain of day.
Peace and Light,