Archive for Thursday, July 12, 2001

Works of art to words of art

July 12, 2001

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These poems were created by students in Joy Clumsky's creative writing class during the 2000-2001 school year at Lawrence High School.

Students selected a work of art that "spoke" to them on an imaginative or emotional level, and interpreted that art with poetry.

The poems demonstrate how creativity in one form generates creativity in other forms.

I lie, wilting on my peach fabric Which cascades solemnly down,
Underneath my pale, sullen face. I spin my strands, golden, of
hair, And gather them aimlessly Beneath my undulating feet. Winds
wisp away my body, And I disappear, My soul aphonic, My words
indiscernible, And my eyes furtive. I realize what I am: Only
pieces of you, Fractions of all that I apprehend with fear. I am my
own worst enemy, A prowling panther Seizing my ravaged heart
Recklessly in his teeth With every intent to destroy my beauty, To
destroy my ignorance, To destroy my hope. I lie, focused on myself,
Realizing manifest truths Beyond these rose-colored glasses, Beyond
the obvious. Knowing I will not change, A teardrop falls in shame.
As a sacrifice, I unveil my melancholy grin, I wilt, And I die. by
Suzy Mosher, inspired by George Fredrick Watts&squot; "Hope"

I lie, wilting on my peach fabric Which cascades solemnly down, Underneath my pale, sullen face. I spin my strands, golden, of hair, And gather them aimlessly Beneath my undulating feet. Winds wisp away my body, And I disappear, My soul aphonic, My words indiscernible, And my eyes furtive. I realize what I am: Only pieces of you, Fractions of all that I apprehend with fear. I am my own worst enemy, A prowling panther Seizing my ravaged heart Recklessly in his teeth With every intent to destroy my beauty, To destroy my ignorance, To destroy my hope. I lie, focused on myself, Realizing manifest truths Beyond these rose-colored glasses, Beyond the obvious. Knowing I will not change, A teardrop falls in shame. As a sacrifice, I unveil my melancholy grin, I wilt, And I die. by Suzy Mosher, inspired by George Fredrick Watts' "Hope"

Already the mask Casts away Your terrible, beautiful, flaming blue.
Shattered light Seeps into the veil, And I choke in its smoke. Blue
heat evaporates my wet chill, Coming going mistaken. They told me
my eyes Were honey-amber-golden-brown. They said my heart was
Sylver. They sang to me Songs of Mercurie. Somehow, I thought This
knife would love me. I&squot;m standing inside you, Playing with shadows
and light, Under a quiet ocean That ruptured And spilled across the
floor. I&squot;m looking at your blue, Staring at your blue, Gasping for
your blue, And I understand, The solidity of fog. by Andrea Perdue,
inspired by Luigi Russolo&squot;s "The Solidity of Fog"

Already the mask Casts away Your terrible, beautiful, flaming blue. Shattered light Seeps into the veil, And I choke in its smoke. Blue heat evaporates my wet chill, Coming going mistaken. They told me my eyes Were honey-amber-golden-brown. They said my heart was Sylver. They sang to me Songs of Mercurie. Somehow, I thought This knife would love me. I'm standing inside you, Playing with shadows and light, Under a quiet ocean That ruptured And spilled across the floor. I'm looking at your blue, Staring at your blue, Gasping for your blue, And I understand, The solidity of fog. by Andrea Perdue, inspired by Luigi Russolo's "The Solidity of Fog"

Away from the maddening crowd, I wander. A place, Like a desert,
Barren of humanity, I seek. Barely touched By human hands, My
surroundings are. Here I find Sanctuary, solace and peace. Only
faint impressions Of human presence, Like film Twice exposed,
Inform this scene. Faith, I have, In this bridge To direct me In
its near-immortal grace. Direct me To a realm Apart from this one.
by Esther Turmes, inspired by Ernest Savage&squot;s "Trees by the Bridge"

Away from the maddening crowd, I wander. A place, Like a desert, Barren of humanity, I seek. Barely touched By human hands, My surroundings are. Here I find Sanctuary, solace and peace. Only faint impressions Of human presence, Like film Twice exposed, Inform this scene. Faith, I have, In this bridge To direct me In its near-immortal grace. Direct me To a realm Apart from this one. by Esther Turmes, inspired by Ernest Savage's "Trees by the Bridge"

Autumn sits warm Upon her shoulders. Her chocolate skin glows With
calm anticipation; She is ready early. She studies herself askance
in her ancient mirror. How will she seem tonight? Should she
present herself shy, As a dazzling wallflower? Or could she be
brash, With feathered earrings swinging To the music? Who will she
be tonight? Should she radiate disdain, And fill her laughter with
cruel sarcasm? Or will she be warm, Like Autumn, And wrap her self
around those In need? Perhaps she shall go as is, And put on no
act, For each mask is As thin as vanity. by Caity Kennedy, inspired
by Andrew Wyeth&squot;s "Thin as Vanity"

Autumn sits warm Upon her shoulders. Her chocolate skin glows With calm anticipation; She is ready early. She studies herself askance in her ancient mirror. How will she seem tonight? Should she present herself shy, As a dazzling wallflower? Or could she be brash, With feathered earrings swinging To the music? Who will she be tonight? Should she radiate disdain, And fill her laughter with cruel sarcasm? Or will she be warm, Like Autumn, And wrap her self around those In need? Perhaps she shall go as is, And put on no act, For each mask is As thin as vanity. by Caity Kennedy, inspired by Andrew Wyeth's "Thin as Vanity"

Gentle rapture of youth, Drift to my intoxicated eyelids. I rest,
While, like a nocturnal torch, My dreams fire Freely into flight. I
am languid, Full of secret desire, Desire to awake. My mind widens,
Expands, and, with spread wings, My soul soars Into a cloud Of
golden pleasure, Incarnate incantations of flaming orange sunsets.
I savor the subtle longing That pools in my concealed pupils, The
secret yearning to eternally sleep. My dreams are momentarily
scorched By a rising thread of smoke, Soon settling on my
declaration of rest. I will grant my mind the pleasure of
wandering, As I dream, As I wait, For the gentle rapture of youth
To fall upon My weary, Love-lost soul. by Sarah Lockwood, inspired
by Frederick Leighton&squot;s "Flaming June"

Gentle rapture of youth, Drift to my intoxicated eyelids. I rest, While, like a nocturnal torch, My dreams fire Freely into flight. I am languid, Full of secret desire, Desire to awake. My mind widens, Expands, and, with spread wings, My soul soars Into a cloud Of golden pleasure, Incarnate incantations of flaming orange sunsets. I savor the subtle longing That pools in my concealed pupils, The secret yearning to eternally sleep. My dreams are momentarily scorched By a rising thread of smoke, Soon settling on my declaration of rest. I will grant my mind the pleasure of wandering, As I dream, As I wait, For the gentle rapture of youth To fall upon My weary, Love-lost soul. by Sarah Lockwood, inspired by Frederick Leighton's "Flaming June"

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