Art Chain ~ Laguna Large

5 Days of Art Chain

Day 1

5 Days of Art Chain

Laguna Large
Original Oil by Kim Nelson

I’ve been invited by poet and photographer Susie Clevenger to follow her in an art chain. Here is my day 1 submission. I think it is complete, but am giving myself a few days to consider. If so, it will soon be available.

In addition to non-fiction and poetry, I also work in oils, acrylics, encaustics and watercolors. Sometimes they converge with fabric and handmade paper, and I venture into multi-media work.

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They Wooed

They wooed me back, the words
Called out to me and soothed
Convinced me I’d been heard
So I returned
To paper, pen
Keyboard (my friend)
And we played
We worked
At times I commandeered complete control
At others they simply flowed,
I clerked
And so it is.

Post Script:

A writer writes. Period. Even when it seems nothing can be said, we write. To a writer, words are as essential as air, water, food. And then some.

Really Good Shoes

I’ve made peace with the fact that I will no longer spend my days and dates in “hot shoes”. I’ve had seven surgeries to help me deal with the pains and deformations of arthritis. The cost is now too high.

Likewise, I’ve said goodbye to perfectionism.  Type “A” at my core, I spent my first five decades clinging to a serious savior complex, determined to control and perfect. HA! At 55, I fully realize the folly of that focus.

Because of such stuff, I love getting older. (The knees that need replacement give me pause, but I’m working on my attitude!)

And so, on the topics of fashion and perfection, I share quotes followed by a poem. Read on!

Good Shoes I

Perfectionism is just fear in really good shoes.”

~ Elizabeth Gilbert

  Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor. It will keep you very scared and restless your entire life if you do not awaken, and fight back.”

 ~ Anne Lamott

Good Shoes II

I fought back.
No longer force feet into shoes just for fashion,
Nor fear what I don’t understand.
I’ve honed self-respect – body, spirit, strength, passion.
Honor others. No longer demand

Age taught me this:
Each path is one’s own.
To me, yours is unknown.
Recall the parable of thrown stone?
No judgement.

Red Kettle

Like a Southern Pacific
Nearing city limits
She whistles
Loud, shrill
Calling me
To pour
Hot contents
Over steeping leaves
I think of her
Half-teaspoon instant coffees
Kitchen table klatch
Sweets in the oven
Placemats matched.
I sip, lost,
To the last

Then determine
To make brittle
Because she would.

Back under
Red kettle.