"And all that is left is not even our own memories." that last line especially when taken in conjunction with the first is really intriguing! Its definitely making me think. Is the "green paint" a memory of nature? Is the ivy reclaiming even that?
Payton, I'm sorry to hear that. Thank you for sharing with us. I can feel the bluster, the turmoil, through your art, and I hope it's able to bring you a measure of comfort. Your work reveals great emotion.
Your similes & metaphors, allusions, vocabulary are always unmatched. As are your themes: love, friendship, religion-- you often hit on many all at once. This touched me in a very specific way. Keep doing what you're doing.
Ahh, "the boxes are in the corner" has me thinking of the sometimes intentional and sometimes unintentional act of compartmentalization... Right, it sure does feel like thoughts and memories and questions can begin to loom over our shoulders some days, stack up like they would in a stuffy attic full of junk you can't let go of. The last lines of this poem, an open window to escape from, was the perfect image to end on.
"And all that is left is not even our own memories." that last line especially when taken in conjunction with the first is really intriguing! Its definitely making me think. Is the "green paint" a memory of nature? Is the ivy reclaiming even that?
"Droplets flop like a panting salmon" What a line! This whole poem is full to bursting with such textured imagery!
talking with my sister
Thank you!
Thank you :) the wording is a bit clunky I know, but I'm glad I got the emotions across!
you did a really good job blending!
All I used was prismacolor colored pencils from art class!
Payton, I'm sorry to hear that. Thank you for sharing with us. I can feel the bluster, the turmoil, through your art, and I hope it's able to bring you a measure of comfort. Your work reveals great emotion.
Your similes & metaphors, allusions, vocabulary are always unmatched. As are your themes: love, friendship, religion-- you often hit on many all at once. This touched me in a very specific way. Keep doing what you're doing.
Ahh, "the boxes are in the corner" has me thinking of the sometimes intentional and sometimes unintentional act of compartmentalization... Right, it sure does feel like thoughts and memories and questions can begin to loom over our shoulders some days, stack up like they would in a stuffy attic full of junk you can't let go of. The last lines of this poem, an open window to escape from, was the perfect image to end on.