Quickie Ekphrasis
by: Billy Collins
I looked at a postcard
of Mount Rushmore
while I cooled my tea with a spoon
then I turned over
the postcard of Mount Rushmore
and bit into a buttered scone.
Art happens every minute of every day. Ask any poet or painter or quilter or musician. Sure, every once in a while, inspiration strikes and something new and beautiful is born. However, if an artist (or poet or musician or fill-in-the-blank) always waits to be inspired before picking up a brush (or pen or violin or fill-in-the-blank), then there would be much less painting and poetry and punk in the world. (Yes, punk music is an art.)
I have to confess that I don't really believe in inspiration. My poems are usually written through struggle and stress, each one going through draft after draft. The trick for me is practice. I write all the time. Even if I'm just running to the post office to mail a postcard, I take my journal and pen with me. Because you never know when a poem will tap you on your shoulder. You have to be ready. All. The. Time.
And, as I said at the beginning of this post, we are surrounded by art every day. We just have to train our eyes (or ears or bodies) to recognize it. Once a person opens up to that recognition, it becomes much easier to write a new poem or paint a new landscape.
It has been raining since I woke up this morning. It's cool tonight, with no stars or moon. In short, not a day that inspires anything but naps and comfort food. Yet, I managed to write this blog post and the poem below. Through sheer stubbornness.
Saint Marty may write about the callous on his big toe tomorrow
Everyday Ekphrasis
by: Martin Achatz
Isn't every poem
an act of ekphrasis,
including this one
about my dog shitting
in my backyard
as rain turns the grass
into a pond Monet
would have painted?
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