(Acrylic on stretched canvas, painted by the author on retreat at Penn Center, St. Helena, SC, ca. 2003)
The continuity of art reveals itself more each year. Images, colors, and themes recur in our writing, painting, photography, cooking, and gardening. So, by chance, when I cut the gladioli from my June garden and placed it in a vase, it gravitated to a painting on my wall. So many times, I have seen in nature like attracts like, for example, yellow butterflies light on yellow flowers.
But, back to the continuity of art. Even in cooking, for example, I have sour dough starter in my refrigerator right now, a baking theme from many years ago when sour dough enjoyed another popularity trend. So, when I was baking bread a week or so ago, I pulled out a poem titled “Bread-Baking” from my collection Lavender Blooms Turn Eggplant Purple (there’s that recurring color!) After some searching, I found the poem and revised it. I’ll share some lines with you here.
Thinking the bread-baking might restore
the home my vagabond dreams threaten,
I set the yeast & the flour in action.
Fingers knead the dough,
punch, pull, stretch until
finally, I shape a smooth loaf,
place it in the bowl,
cover with clean linen.
Time now for its rising.
I wonder as I rest,
steaming tea to my lips,
leaves rustling outside the window,
how yeast turns flour to bread &
what leaven would so wonderfully
transform the early days
into sustenance for the soul?
Jacquelyn Markham (excerpt Bread-Baking)
And, now, it’s June and in my region along with the stunning purple & wine gladioli, we enjoy the abundance of vegetable gardens. So, the other day, I relived another poem, from another time, “Today This Jar of Pickles is My Poem.” This poem became the title poem of a chapbook of the same name that placed as a finalist in a chapbook contest sponsored by what was then Armstrong State College in Savannah (now Georgia Southern University).
from the poem:
I struggle with domesticity
as I sterilize jars, clear
pack fresh cucumbers, garlic
sharp smelling dill
breathe steaming vinegar
vapor that unclouds the brain
Lids bounce in boiling water
I fish for one and quickly seal
each jar, this could be a poem
each jar, this a painting
each jar, I question
and justify
. . .
On gray winter days
sculptures in glass on my shelf
green peppers and cayennes twist in to form
zucchinis and crookneck yellows
wind, curve around each other
speckled beans, mosaics
I take down jar after jar
chill or heat the colors
shapes, lines
patterns that turn to food and are eaten
Jacquelyn Markham
(excerpt from “Today This Jar of Pickles is My Poem”)
So, today, look around you. Do you see the continuity of art around you? And, the continuity of your life?
Jacquelyn~ aka Poet Voice
Poet Voice 