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Lot of stuff going on today. I got an email today that said:
Our panel of jurors met on Wednesday April 20, 2011 to review entries for THE ArT-QuILT ExPERIENCE exhibition co-sponsored by the Stone Quarry Hill Art Park and The Art Quilt Experience Group. The Jurors agreed that the quality of the entries was exceptional, and we are pleased to inform you that your quilt, Primordial, has been accepted to be shown in the THE ArT-QuILT ExPERIENCE exhibition.
That’s rather exciting news and means I’ll be doing a lot of hand sewing in the near future.
The email was sent this morning but ended up in Spam. Who knows why. I didn’t find it til after I got home tonight. Anyway, this is an interesting thing to have four quilts heading out to three different shows. Huh. I may need an assistant or something. The show openings go: Quilt National, The Art Quilt Experience, and Sacred Threads.
Only a few more days to National Poetry Month. It’s been an interesting experience to me. Not quite what I expected. Didn’t really change my writing habit except making the point to write every day, ready, idea-bearing or not. Tonight I sat down with not too much of any idea on hand and this is what I came up with:
scraping syllables off wall
I don’t know where ideas come from
I don’t know what art is, or why
this thing is and this thing isn’t.
I’m quite sure I don’t want to know
why this one makes money
and that one starved.
And if you push me on it
push me to explain my own work
I’ll just give you seventeen syllables
and let you reassemble
your own thoughts.
Today’s poem came from the prompt at Not Without Poetry. Strangely, NaPoWriMo asks us to write Spam Poetry based on all those spam emails. Regular readers will remember that I riffed a bit on a bit of blog comment spam so I hope that will count a bit in that department.
I started this at lunch and worked on it a bit more when I finally got home from work.
I Sit Up In Bed At The Open Window
The slightest breeze sounds
yet where moves the air and trees?
But for the whisper, the birch is still.
Down the road, the peepers
calling calling calling
filling their pool with life.
In the birch a bird stirs
just a ruffle of feathers
the foot shuffle, blinking, then sleep again.
That curious sound: pad pad pad
A cat comes up the steps;
determined, stealthy. Silence. Up on bed.
The stars shine behind
the birch’s smallest branches
the dark Way making the leaves gleam
The rumble of a car
pulling in late, down the road.
Then just my breath.
The workroom clock ticks.
The late night train calls out.
a dog barks twice and once.
This perfect late Spring night
balanced relaxed waiting
The night dissolves into the night.
Mary Beth Frezon 26 April 2011
Here’s my mom, taken by dad. Note the geeky stuff tag- she’s the poster child for using technology. She published this pic into a gallery from MobileMe!
Well I was really struggling with this today. Prompts didn’t do anything for me. The Not Without Poetry one was interesting – pick an internet meme and use that as a starting point, or even just the idea of a meme. The NaPoWriMo prompt was about writing in riddle form. I pondered a bunch of things – too close to the bone. Wrote one haiku that was positively bleak.
I’m sticking those little squares back on the wall – almost done. I pick up a pile, look at the color chosen quite awhile ago and think – really? But it is all working out quite ok.
So in the interest of having written something that I’m willing to stick on this wall I offer you the following little haiku:
Little squares stuck to my wall
My colors and choice.
oh what the heck:
when I am long gone
my work will either pack trucks
or big museums.
LOL or how about
If you’re too lazy
to type your name and comment
I’m good with that too.
OK maybe a beverage, the last few rows and bed.
What? What happened to
The daily poem Mary Beth?
It’s a long story.
Threw some stanzas into a group poem on Not Without Poetry. It was/is interesting and fun but I can’t think of what might go next or how we know if it’s done.
The whole poem, compiled by the prompt giver can be seen in comments.
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