Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Monday, June 25, 2012

More poetical inspiration...

Today's poem by William Wordsworth has such wonderful imagery I wanted to share it. I hope it inspires your art.

A Whirl-Blast from Behind The Hill 

A Whirl-Blast from behind the hill 
Rushed o'er the wood with startling sound; 
Then--all at once the air was still, 
And showers of hailstones pattered round. 
Where leafless oaks towered high above, 
I sat within an undergrove 
Of tallest hollies, tall and green; 
A fairer bower was never seen. 
From year to year the spacious floor 
With withered leaves is covered o'er, 
And all the year the bower is green. 
But see! where'er the hailstones drop 
The withered leaves all skip and hop; 
There's not a breeze--no breath of air-- 
Yet here, and there, and everywhere 
Along the floor, beneath the shade 
By those embowering hollies made, 
The leaves in myriads jump and spring, 
As if with pipes and music rare 
Some Robin Good-fellow were there, 
And all those leaves, in festive glee, 
Were dancing to the minstrelsy. 

William Wordsworth 



photo by Bella Fortuna

Above is a photo by one of my facebook friends, Bella Fortuna. She takes amazing photos of nature. I keep telling her she should send her stuff in to National Geographic. Her photos of insects are so perfect! I keep thinking I'll make an art quilt of them one day. She took a picture of a dragonfly that almost looks like it has a little smile. And she captures birds most beautifully. I just thought this pic of a lagoon would work well with Wordsworth's poetry. 
I made a label for Lillian's baby blanket, since we'll be presenting it to her tomorrow - yay! I started out trying to embroider it, but my skills aren't up to snuff on that. I got out my pink acrylic ink and painted it. I can paint much better than embroider, at least for now.


I have to stitch it on, obviously, but this is what I have so far. Later today I'll post some progress/process photos from the Grandmother's Flower Garden. I needed to replenish my supply of hexagons. I had many cut and all the freezer paper was cut, but still needed to be ironed on (which I did last night) and I started basting the pieces. I'll take some photos so you can see how that goes. 
For now, have a beautiful day! If it's sunny where you are, go get some vitamin D. Take pictures, take notes, get your creative juices flowing!


Saturday, June 23, 2012

Summer inspiration

I am a fan of poetry, I'll freely admit that. I wasn't always a fan of reading poetry, but I've written an awful lot of awful poetry in my day. About a year ago I started designing art quilts based on the poetry of John Keats. I plan on embroidering Frank Loesser's lyrics to the song, "Anywhere I Wander" to the quilt I'm making for my niece's baby. 
Today, in my email, I received the following poem (I get daily poems from poetry.com). It's one I hadn't known before, and true poetry mavins will probably tsk-tsk that. To be fair I really didn't start actively reading poetry until the last three or four years, so I'm still a relative virgin. 
Anyway, I thought, since it's officially summer and sometimes the change of seasons brings a need for inspiration, I would share this one. Hopefully it'll inspire you do go outside in the sun and enjoy the day! Or maybe it'll inspire something creative and artistic, which is what it did to me. Great. Another idea in my head. I wish I had Dumbledore's pensieve for all my ideas. It does get a bit cramped in there...

Summer Sun 

Great is the sun, and wide he goes 
Through empty heaven with repose; 
And in the blue and glowing days 
More thick than rain he showers his rays. 

Though closer still the blinds we pull 
To keep the shady parlour cool, 
Yet he will find a chink or two 
To slip his golden fingers through. 

The dusty attic spider-clad 
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; 
And through the broken edge of tiles 
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles. 

Meantime his golden face around 
He bares to all the garden ground, 
And sheds a warm and glittering look 
Among the ivy's inmost nook. 

Above the hills, along the blue, 
Round the bright air with footing true, 
To please the child, to paint the rose, 
The gardener of the World, he goes. 

Robert Louis Stevenson