Monday, 18 April 2016

Seeing Blackbirds

seeing blackbirds





Seeing Blackbirds


Two blackbirds find a space
and divert each twitch-shifting
lift as if formalism of light
has caught them off-guard - objects
hidden in the tree are disturbing buildings,
songs of melancholy, real parts of paintings.


The birds are made up of
straight lines and flawless linear struggles.
They may not seep, their argument
is with the stuff of blossoms,
up to their chests in it.
Their arguments are with each other -
making familiar grids of transcendence,
a hop-skip of song
and the flat grey world
is just another poem.


(Cathy Cullis 2016 - please do not copy or reproduce without permission)

**
This piece came about from direct observation: seeing two and then three blackbirds bickering in a small treee outside my window. At that time I was reading several books on art theory. The two worlds merged as I worked on the poem. I wrote it a few months ago now. It was an interesting process to almost rediscover my way into the poem through stitching it. The work is stitched using cotton thread on black linen with a backing of black cotton.

This stitch-text work will be in my shop on Wednesday

Wednesday, 13 April 2016

Fog in Spring



Fog in Spring

a hanging sleepy sun
above my meighbours magnolia
blooms like fists
or angelic heads
branches as frippery
petals fall
in slow motion

**

a smaller stitch-text work, cotton thread on white linen

Monday, 11 April 2016

How To Write A Spring Poem






How To Write A Spring Poem


How To Write A Spring Poem

Become forgetful, talk as if you have never 
been here before. Kneel in odd places.
Observe the dead among the living.
Un-name your childhood flowers.


Steal only the daintiest buds.
Borrow from the ground up.
Write notes to yourself and lose them near and far.
Focus on the nothing in gaps of sun.


Address only the rain, old waking bees,
the crones of orchards with their
skirts on fire. Gather baskets of
birdsong, as much as you can carry home.


Follow a sound, even the small tap-tap
of your silver necklace against the window.
Scrub your words until evening,
think of them as feathers for nests.

Sing not for old heroes
but for yourself.


**

This stitch-text work will be offered for sale in my shop this week - Wednesday. The poem is one of several I have written in recent months. I will be creating stitch works featuring some of the poems over the next several weeks. Other poems may be published elsewhere.