Still Life Poem by David Wood
Still Life
There, on my sideboard,
Is a collection of artist's
Paintbrushes, the ones
I haven't used for a year.
They rest quietly in an
Old coffee jar all waiting
To feel wanted again, to
Create something new.
Like humans they are all
Different sizes and heights
And each has it's own
purpose in life.
Unlike humans there is no
Animosity, no stress, no
Desire and no hatred as
They patiently wait
Tucked between an old
Wedding photo and a pot
Plant, and under a painting
Of a yacht in full sail.
Yet they're all now connected
Spinning through time fused
In regard to other inanimate
Objects on my sideboard,
Connected in completeness,
And like humans, brought to
Life when thought of or needed
In life's tidal ebb and flow.
And why aren't you still painting, David? I can already vividly see your still life painting. It's as beautiful as your poem!
I need another room for painting, the table has paint on it & floor standing easel gets in the way. Storing paintings difficult too. Poetry is much easier.
Old things are not just things. They have memories attached to them. You can't just let go of them.
It's amazing how you have been able to turn objects around you into poetry. From the mundane and ordinary objects come the most beautiful thoughts. Bravo!
Brilliant poem, somber and poignant with a wistful vibrancy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 11:09:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Unlike humans there is no Animosity, no stress, no Desire and no hatred as They patiently wait ~ written beautifully; nice to read the poetic theme