So, without further ado, let’s get to today’s painting and poem, inspired by William Wordsworth’s poem, I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud.
To read this poem, click here (or scroll down near the bottom of the page)
A MURDER OF CROWS
It had showered all day,
and the sky was beaten tin.
It was warm for January.
The city’s spires were lost in the overcast.
Streams of slurry
coursed along the street curbs,
and the air smelled like rain and rust.
We had just stepped outside
and saw crows by the thousands,
each a regent of the high winds.
We listened rapt to their cawing chorus
echoing as within the tall stone walls
of a gothic cathedral.
It baffled me to see
so much nobility,
wings wide and far-ranging,
perched and swaying on the brittle veins
of bloodless trees—
a murder of black-robed priests—
an elect few gliding high in lazy circles
like fathers seeking God in the desert.
How do they see us?
trammeled to the mud,
skittering like bugs
on the wet concrete?
And as we stood and breathed them in,
I wondered about your winged spirit,
and wondered about mine,
and the way we circle each other,
as two shamans around the fire dance
then to each our perch,
and to each our branch.
With whom have I flown?
Loves like zephyrs fleeting,
fade to meadows on the farthest hillside,
but with you I hope to fly forever.
I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD
by William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
William Wordsworth 1770-1850. Born in Brookeline, Massechusetts.
Link to Biography: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/william-wordsworth
Link to Poem: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45521/i-wandered-lonely-as-a-cloud
ABOUT THE POETRY PAINTING PROJECT
For the past couple of months I have been working on a huge new secret project with my painter, Addie Hirshten, of Studio Alchemy
We selected 30 poems (from the public domain) and each day for the next 30 days I will write a poem inspired by it, and Addie will paint a painting.
Expect an outpouring of creative energy! This is the sort of big project that artists live for … where we can say what we yearn to say. Big picture stuff. Heart wrenching stuff. I feel so inspired by the poetry we are working with AND seeing Addie’s process as well. Expect daily surprises with our posts. Expect passion. Expect love. Expect life.
The truth is more important than the facts.Frank Lloyd Wright
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