Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Poetry from the Emergence show

This exercise was directed by Marilyn Hazelton at the Emergence group show. Artists and guests wrote poetry in response to the art on display. They were read aloud at the closing party. Poems are also compiled by Marilyn.


Were you there?
did you see, feel, hear
the exuberance:
was not the energy palpable?

Much to drink in
this visual breaking of bread
with paintings all around
two even went round and round
one stretched from New York City
to Santa Fe

In various dimensions
I was taken apart
swept out to sea
carried back by a familiar melody
put together
in the cave of my ancestors
taken on a tour of American Pop Culture aboard
a Mexico City bus
and tempted to believe
I had found the Holy Grail

Edward Nowak

Time and Beauty
for “Modern Art”
by Georgine Miller

Grey eyes observing, pensive
Hair flowing freely
Questioning, wondering, alert
Unaware of time passing
And beauty expressed
in the freedom of youth.

Louise Muzio

Portrait of a Poet, Armando Passy (1945-2001)
After a painting by Joseph Skrapits

Like rifles
leaned against a bamboo hooch
your brows knit, Armando,
as if remembering Nam, 1968.
Again you finger those
save your ass rosary beads
as Phantom jets rain napalm
over water buffalo
rice paddies
Vietnamese flesh ...
and your own swart skin doubles the danger
of not-so-friendly fire from your platoon.

You watch through
eyes like charred shadows, Armando,
as if you see young Carmen's
lapsed wings and dark, outstretched eyes,
craving a hug from a street poet
at the Homework Club
the morning after
gunshots splattered a man's brains
on her kitchen floor.

You, bony shoulders in a white undershirt,
a frame unchanged perhaps
from “Count Spider” at fifteen,
toughened by St. Vincent's Home for Boys
and Brooklyn streets
one of The Seven Hustlers,
against the Apaches and Black Diamonds,
altar boy no more.

Setting aside your pen to sit for a portrait,
did you conjure
people and things lost?
the work remaining in a life
of poetry and purpose
urban repair and second chances?
or a benedicion for those departed
and those
you do not know how soon
you'll leave behind?

Susan Weaver

Italicized lines are from Passy's “More than One War” and “Hug Over Bullets.”

for “Aqua”
by Marco Calderon

The rain is the first I see,
But then — the tree!
Memories of when I was three . . .
Grandma, dark chocolate and me!



for “Interruption of Continuity”
by Michelle Bodamer

falling, twisting, rising . . . breathe
then I do it all again.
The madness draws me in a kiss of death then
salvation promised by a surge of hope.
Will it ever end? Will I find peace?

Sharisse Bruto

for Metal Paper
by Marco Calderon

A nameless shape
Something stagnant, moving.
A metal note, with writing inside.
If only I could unfold the paper. I’m
sure that its message would be profound.

Heather Haas

for Untitled
by Lee Lecky

It looks weather & wise
full of hope
joy rising, an adventure
behind each door
Never too old to start

Eileen Cressman Reeder

The Ocean
for “Interruption of Continuity”
by Michelle Bodamer

with its constant cycle,
never ending continuity, its same
routine stopped.
Orange and red, black and white
that don’t belong in the sea’s blue
interrupt and stop . . .
the constant flow.

G.P. & O.T. (Mrs. Chen’s nieces visiting from CA)

for Becoming the Butterfly
a photograph by Pete Hughes

I’m somebody, who are you? And
I can find something new
Standing here, behind this eye
I know everybody knows how to hide
But . . . I like to wait & look for another angle
Pull a loose thread & unwind its tangle
Pare down the bizarre, simplify the maze
Find a moment that’s special in an ordinary day.
Sometimes show a prism of colors, of
shapes & shadows
unseen by others

Noelle Gabovitz

A part
for “Martha Bloomgren Salemme”
by Antonio Salemme

Eyes serene or critical,
She sits and watches.
A wife apart.

Still, it’s her space,
No need to be buzzed in.
A part of this show.

Georgine Miller

My brother
for “Emperors of African Royalty”

My brother, so strong and tall
strong yet flexible like a bamboo
ready to bend but not break
as the winds of life blow.
Eager and willing to stand again
when the wind ceases.

Flexible enough to let the little breaks
mend and to grow as the sun shines again.
Just like an African Royalty, my brother is.

You make me proud TJ and I
love you very much!

Adetola Louis-Jacques

A Fractured Union
for “A Crack on Time”
by Ramon Peralta

One side left
One side right
The train passing it in the night

Between the “NO” there’s an “I”
engulfed in blackness to the sky

Colors of old fight back time
fight back scars, fight back blight

Zehra Follweiler

The Pod
for “Extraterrestrial”
by David Molloy

The extraterrestrial pod is Rad.
What lives inside?
Is it a pod that will open and
a strange creature comes out?
Is it a pod that has plant seeds
in it?
What’s it all about?


The Traveler
for “Viola, Traveler”

My tapestry bag full of stories
age old tales with love and glory
A simple life and well-traveled paths,
I worked hard to serve
but then I observed
my ultimate goal all along . . .
was to go back home to where my heart longs

Tracey Lopez

for “Tomatoes and Yellow Vase”
by William DeRaymond

Bright tomatoes, yellow vase
Dancing boys swirl and turn
Strokes shoot skyward from behind
Cezanne still come to life.

Michelle Neifert

Coy Allentown Girl
for “Linden St. & 9th St., 1902”
by Rosemary Geseck

She poses coyly in the snow covered street
Right in the middle of the street!
In downtown Allentown
(Try that now! Wow!)
9th and Linden – 1902
An unknown photographer, an unseen face
Father, Mother, Uncle?
says “Stand still, pose for the camera,”
and she smiles coyly in the
huge ice storm aftermath –
and digs her toe playfully in the snow –
The horses wait patiently
for their oats and cozy barn time
in the traces, their owner selling Fancy Cakes –
The tonsorial parlor on the
corner – maybe even had some
peppermint candy to match the
barber pole out front for the camera poser –
I wonder if she bought her
cape at Hess Brothers one block away? (opened 1897)
What was your name
coy, fun loving girl
digging your toe in the new fallen snow?

Rosemary Geseck

The Universal Truth
for “Elevation”
by Ramon Peralta

The color of blue, spirit true
As a third eye during Kundalini yoga
A chant, a trance
Floating of love, romance
One self is true, full of heat
The spine of Kundalini you cannot see
but you feel its energy
red for the heart. . .

So much energy, strong, high above
Wall and spirit, body become one
elevated away from our flesh and humanity
to connect and become one with higher power
of self and universe.

Amber Sorrentino

after Untitled
Encaustic mixed media on board
by Lee Lecky

Within this ancient art
of pigment held by wax,
I see all that circles are:
buttons, raindrops,
ancient coins, and
the blood-red ground
of being born.
I hear my mother’s cry of pain.
Floating inside the dream
of childhood, I feel those nails
pierce the hands and feet
of Jesus.

But hope rises, falls,
eases sideways, fades,
returning again,
like stages of love
through these slabs of rust,
red, turquoise,
chalk blue, hard beige,
stone grey, forest shadow,
green veined with gold:
history layered
in its small doorway —
inviting me
to enter . . .

Marilyn Hazelton

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