Poems (11)

Complications of life situations sometimes are becoming much easier to express through words than the rational explanation. Sometimes we need to put words down to be able to process what is happening within the inner world.

Life gets heavy, life can get dark...Still... we carry on and what is unexpected that once something is gone there is something else around the corner to drag behind...

 

In past I never welcomed autumn. I would hold on to regret that summer is gone, the fact we have a long way before days become longer again. But gradually I started seeing the point of darker days, longer nights and the whole "withdrawn", "inwards" concept of quieter season. We are transitioning from outward living of spring and summer to go back to our self- time for introspection, inner journeys and welcoming shadows to learn to dig deeper into souls. This November this short poetic assemblage of words just popped out of my mind... 

 

 

Callings are sometimes quiet, sometimes very loud- still we fear the changes and shake up they will bring. Here in a very quick way I caught the thought going through my mind as I knew that time of playing safe was well overdue...

 

There are those rather rare moments when we are caught in self-reflection over meaning of life. It could be in the morning before the house wakes up or in the evening when we step into the quiet garden. Sometimes it happens during short daily breaks when we are left to alone to meet our mind's wonders. Here was my wonder in one of those moments...

As years pass by we slowly start realising that collection of days, months, seasons and years happens without our control and kind of between the lines. We are trapped in daily repetition of tasks and activities like unconscious creatures acting in some kind of trans without any reflection. Then sometimes we stop when we are caught in the ordinary moment of extraordinary- maybe the shape of clouds seen through the window, maybe the random melody on the radio...And we wonder..Where did life go? Life goes on every day, every mundane minute and second...We breathe in and breathe out past all the time. Short poem that crossed my soul when I thought about it...

 

“Breathing paint”

 

It is the paint that makes me breathe. I almost suffocated myself once without it. I was not painting for a long while of over 30 years of my life. I was somewhere there far away in human fake world of fighting egos and meaningless conversations. My days were filled with a nonsense of daily living for nothing more than mere feeding, working, commuting, maintaining, sleeping and repeat mode. It lasted years, many years and almost killed me. I was about to grasp the very last, desperate air of life when painting appeared…

We painters live to paint. Nothing more nothing less.  

 

 Simple poem about how busy our life become to the degree we simple forget to live and end up cancelling appointment with our own existence...Put the phone down today and forget about emails for 10 minutes, sit and read...

Sometimes you can find yourself confused and questioning what is that all life and passing time about? Are we living to the deepest level or just passing by...

Let your art talk...