By Eva Lewarne
As you sit in a stream of light
pouring into the kitchen
tired hands folded in your lap
the yellow of sunset reflected in roses
carefully arranged in a vase
behind your back.
Dreaming with unwavering gaze
as yellow sparkles dance in your eyes
turned to the window with yellow
and white checked curtains
fluttering gently in the breeze
Perfectly poised and still
the clock chimes ring
Un-noticed by you, in flesh only here
In reality at play with spirits beyond
the yellow stream of light dims
as you become lit from within.
A tired long sigh escapes your lips
you glance at the now still clock
time is dancing faster than
your feet will allow
Torn between now and then, you pick
up the tea cup and place it in the sink
A perfect sunset, my grandmother.
Waiting, digitally painted self-portrait, image © 2010 by Eva Lewarne. All rights reserved.
Born and raised in Poland and living presently in Canada, Eva Lewarne is a graduate of Ontario College of Art & Design (OCAD) and University of Toronto. She has always painted and written, especially poetry.
She recently received a Medal from France in a Painting Festival in Avignon (Grand Prix), which was not her first. Some of Eva’s work was stolen from the Grand Palais in Paris, before that.
About writing Eva says: I started writing poetry as a teenager in Poland. If I was better at writing stories I probably would be doing that and less painting, but as it stands…? I write poetry when I need to take a break from painting and when I am moved, of course. I have been published in a Quebec poetry magazine and Purple Patch in England. Also a chapbook exists of my earlier poetry. Most recently I have taken to loving photography and am shooting “abstract photographs.” I hope to exhibit these.
You can see more of Eva’s works at her website, http://evalewarne.com.
Eva, what a pleasant surprise to find out that you were both a writer and an artist. I’m glad you touched upon that in the note you sent about writing and how if you had been better at short stories, you might be doing that more. Did you for some time work on being a writer before deciding to dedicate more time to painting instead?
My blog partner and I were both immediately struck by this poem when we read it. It feels comfortable; I can see the kitchen, hear the sigh. It has a melancholy to it, a longing that feels good to have right now, for some reason. It captured a certain sense—of the past, of grandmothers—that I could relate to.
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Very thoughtful and loving. Wish I was there.
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Eva, I agree with ybonesy. The poem captures a moment in time, and for me creates a kind of sadness inside. It’s hard to capture that feeling in words. The gift of poetry. I especially like these lines:
Un-noticed by you, in flesh only here
In reality at play with spirits beyond
the yellow stream of light dims
as you become lit from within.
The idea of being lit from within. What do you find to be the differences (or similarities) between the creative processes of writing and art? ybonesy and I often talk about that subject. I never really land on the answer. Writing seems so much harder in a way. At least for me. The visual process is lighter for me.
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Hi QuoinMonkey and ybonesy
Poetry and painting are similar for me as they both paint a visual in my mind. Dialogue disturbs the process somewhat in story writing. Yet it is all about the senses, touch, smell, color, mood, sound, etc.
It is a matter of getting my mind out of the way and trusting the Muse, or creative process. Sometimes it is digging up a memory, also through the senses.
Anyway, I don’t think I or anyone else truly knows. Art is after all as Francis Bacon said, “a mystery”.
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And his art is perhaps more mysterious than most, which I love about it. 8)
I hadn’t thought about the disturbance (which I read as “complication”) that dialogue imposes in writing, but yes, it does, doesn’t it?
Eva, I’d love to feature your paintings on the blog some time this year, too, so I hope we can do that.
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Yes thank you. That would be great.
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