Kandinsky “Composition IV” -What is true?
I hear colour, too
understand how sight and sound
confound the senses when I see
music and feel sculptures as you
hear compositions abstracted not
representing anything other than
what pleases you as you fall to
your knees and weep to see
your own painting on its side.
I would have guided you to John Lackey
but he wasn’t even born before you died
and I cringe to remember commenting
on background music in Lackey’s film
as whiny, not knowing it was his own
and take heart in his gracious assurance
that anonymity breeds honest criticism
I know that to be true, as well.
Phish scorned as pissing in audience’s ears
I can’t applaud enough when Trey forgets
lines much like Jerry Garcia often stumbled
and we loved him even more for it, that is true.
But I wonder what mantra to chant to write
a sonnet and what wounds behind closed
doors to muffle so that I can even write
one good line before I’m done.
B. Elizabeth Beck
This poem is from B. Elizabeth Beck's manuscript, Painted Daydreams. The writer, artist and teacher is the author of two poetry books, and founder of central Kentucky's Teen Howl Poetry Series. She lives in Lexington, Kentucky.
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