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A Sunday whirl…finally had some time to write

I couldn’t find a truly representational piece of art work this morning and also I’m running out of time to post, so I’m going with this lovely, atmospheric bit of sky. If later I manage to find/create/alter one I’ll add it to the post.

Thank you Brenda for the lovely words to play with.

104 copy

discipline, pieces, stealing, heroic, moment, fly,
prophets, limits, gazing, patience, tears, sublime

The air is thick this morning.

She stumbles to the window to slide it open it and to hear the rain and traps a fly between the panes and gets lost for a while in the frantic buzzing.

She walks down the carpet to the cold tiles and stands in front of the mirror with her eyes fighting hard, stealing focused glances.

She dresses and collects herself and the pieces of paper representing her week’s discipline in a garbage bag, steps out and feels the rain hit her face as she walks thru the city.

She shortcuts across the grass focusing carefully on each trampled blade and smacks her elbow into the elbow of a stranger passing by.

Her bundle falls to the ground; a sketch peeking out from the black plastic bag.

The startled man turns and stares at it; a night scene of a country church.

He sniffs his patience away and makes a heroic gesture of wanting to help from under his umbrella.

The rain is mercilessly editing the art work, stretching the limits of charcoal, quickly twisting the cross on the steeple and blurring the stars.

She stands in the rain gazing at the paper and willing the man out of existence.

In this moment she sees, and her tears mingle with the rain. The man’s shadow disappears behind her.

And it happens just like that, not in the blink of an eye, maybe a blink and a quarter, maybe a blink and a half.

He doesn’t see it, no one does; the sublime twists on the paper.

She slowly pulls on a corner of the plastic bag and exposes all the paper to the rain.

Somewhere up high the prophets nod their heads in silence.

This is what they wanted to say.

Comments: 27

  • February 24, 2013
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    wow

  • February 24, 2013
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    And they say it every morning…

  • Catherine Llewellyn

    February 24, 2013
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    wow too

  • peggygoetz

    February 24, 2013
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    Wow what a wonderful creation from the wordle words! Very original. And thank you for visiting my blog an commenting.

  • February 24, 2013
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    This touched me and I won’t soon forget it.

    http://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.ca/2013/02/patience-for-angel.html

  • February 24, 2013
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    I like the part where she held out the paper in the rain. Don’t quite know why.

  • February 24, 2013
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    On the one hand, one wants to make her stop, but the talent doesn’t lie in the art, but in the artist. There will be other sketches.

  • February 24, 2013
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    Not every piece of artwork is art, but every piece you do, tells you more about yourself and what you are capable of. Even a little help from the rain can broaden your mind to more possibilities.

  • February 25, 2013
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    Veronica, a lovely write. I am also fond of the part Irene mentioned.

    Pamela

  • February 25, 2013
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    I’m almost certainly over-thinking this. I see beyond frustration to futility. Did you have that in mind with the incident involving the fly? Or is that just a throw away determined by the target words? Your protagonist’s attitude toward the fly is indifference tinged with malice, reflected first in umbrella man’s hasty retreat, and again at the end by the great sky prophets’ malignant indifference to human effort – and specifically art, which pours out from the soul.

    Very effective use of the prompt. This is only the 2nd link I’ve followed, and wonder if anyone made something positive from it.

    Cheers!
    JzB

  • February 25, 2013
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    Wow, that is a powerful piece, Veronica! Funny how a little water can turn something we don’t like into something to salvage 🙂

  • February 25, 2013
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    Others seem to find things we didn’t intend but the words…just write themselves. The fly…I think it adds to the trapped feeling of the artist. I was thinking I hope you didn’t destroy all your art work. But then not all of what we write is reflective of our true selves. And then I read that you often try to rework your own art. Some folks who write do that by rewriting.

    I didn’t really plan all the alterations, well not consciously anyway. Thanks for your visit.

      • February 26, 2013
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        Because I have written – well quite a bit – I tend to write it down and forget it. So it has been very nice to participate in the Whirl and get insights and opinions. It does make it a challenge when you go look for something that you want to find because you know you have it – somewhere. Weather it is a written piece or other artwork that you have hidden away. I also do small craft work. But it isn’t easy to rework already fired ployemer clay 🙂

  • February 25, 2013
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    Wow. I was kind of heartbroken when I first read this, so I am glad that I also read the comments. The most I know about art is that watercolors are the easiest to wash off at night when my sweeties have decided to paint themselves for the day. I needed to mourn the work she did first before I could reread it and see if I saw inspiration in the rain. I did, eventually, but that first impression of sadness kind of lingered with me. I really liked this piece and thought it was a wonderful use of the wordle.

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