Let Me Sing A Song Of A Village Poem by Terence George Craddock

once upon a time there was a village
a gathering very special artistic village
a place an artist creative lonely might quest go
a place where gathering art would freely flow

it was known simply as The Village or Greenwich Village
a neighborhood on the west side Lower Manhattan New York City
it did not have to look nice it did not have to be pretty

bounded by 14th Street to the north
bounded by Broadway to the east
bounded by Houston Street to the south
bounded by the Hudson River to the west

it was a place an artist could go
it was a place creativity could flow

upon arrival choices could be made
both in art and stretch out living spaces
choose from several local subsections

perhaps the West Village west of Seventh Avenue
or the Meatpacking District in the northwest corner
an old Dutch word Groenwijck Greenwich Village

meaning 'Green District'
a place to let the hair down
a place to let creativity grow

roll in the 20th century
Greenwich Village
becomes an artists' haven

the bohemian capital
the cradle of art
the East Coast birthplace

the Beats artists
counterculture movements
flock to Greenwich Village like bees

to low rent small town element
Burroughs, Ginsberg, Kerouac,
other poets frequent drink bars

The Beat Generation
romantic immortalized
in idol literary psyche

desire to write
can be addictive
literary insanity

go to the village
in cellphone era 2020s
to observe people

artist won't enjoy
observing people
as much as used to

why everyone acts
like they're on stage
do the selfie post

artists people
used to come
to The Village

sheepishly

artist nobody
was not sure
if belonged

running mind song
running the gauntlet
running artist insecurity

we didn't know
if we were artists
if we belong

these postie selfie days
everyone hand walks
entitled around about

like
they're
contributing

something

thumbrule artist
angst uncertainty
driven by an art

now the ordinary
claim divinity
nice but artistically

there's no angst anymore
there's too much certainty
not fire fuel for creativity

so that's a shame
all the best art
comes from artists

people who feel like
they don't belong
happy to hide in shadows

under the radar

an exception
blockbuster artists
evading the fall

art is a way
of proving
your existence

not all artists
feel this need
to create enough...

artist young
is often surprised
if anyone respected

told them that
phrase you are
a painter poet

an artist...

I am an artist

the worst thing
if expecting entitlement
empowered or humility...

pretentious
stopped
walking

into museums
galleries
with a sense

of awe...

walked in
feeling like
an ‘artist'

isolated artist
outside cities
artist communities

never felt belonging pitfalls

never walked
arms crossed
knowledged

into museums
galleries
viewing pieces

with it was ‘good'
I didn't like a piece
it is technique ‘bad'

artist in conversation

artist alone
in dark room
in bright room

listens to mind song
listens to voice loops
runs with art swift shifts

who is vulnerable
who lost humility
who lost spontaneity

in truth growth stops
when the artist stops
creating inner voice

when artist stops creating self

art on a platter
it does not matter
until art gob smacked

overwhelmed with wonder
surprise stunned shocked
astounded enter art enticing...

the journey begins...


Terence George Craddock (Afterglows Echoes Of Starlight)
Copyright © Terence George Craddock