The iconic Cathedral Rock features in my current biog pic. It's beneficent hand is very apparent when you see it life-size, not quite so visible in a miniature shot! :)) xx
CATHEDRAL ROCK
Today, no sweat-flanked pony,
reins dropped, sups gently,
lightly shaking its mane
under blazing arc lights
and clicking clapper boards,
shooting yet another cowboy
stream-crossing scene.
Instead, on the far side of the brook,
an artist’s moated tranquillity
erects a canopy of space,
stalks the wilderness
of a moment in dabs
of bloodied colour
and strokes of bristled pine.
Shielded by a Stetson’s
wide-brimmed grace and
gently-basking parasol,
his hand is drawn,
patient as sagebrush,
to the rock he paints,
whose palm (towering above
and raised in priestly blessing)
stills this storm-rent ravine
as it whispers in cottongrass
first rays of spring.
Kate - Enjoyable tribute to Cathedral rock and the artist who is painting it. Liked the lines:
Instead, on the far side of the brook,
an artist’s moated tranquillity
erects a canopy of space,
and:
his hand is drawn,
patient as sagebrush,
to the rock he paints,
whose palm (towering above
and raised in priestly blessing)
stills this storm-rent ravine
as it whispers in cottongrass
first rays of spring.
Especially like the sound of "ravine" and "spring."
I love how you crawl into nature and into the work and thinking of others with your words. The mastery is in the reading, and you should know that I am there with you observing every incident and person named herein. Tell me that there will be many more. - Bill
Mmmm...Your poetry is always delicious to digest. This one leaves that feeling of quietude that you would find in a cathedral, and gives the feeling that one needs to tiptoe away from the scene you depicted...so as not to disturb the painter at his work.
I love the way you used the repetitive soft "s" sound at the end to hold out the hushed feeling a little longer. Maybe that is what gave me that feeling of quietude. I don't know...hee, hee... either way, I will just shush now so as to leave the painter undisturbed...
Oh, I do love this, Kate! That patient sage brush line is perfect-- hope you got to experience that scent after a little rain...
Seems like the big west never changes. One expects to see the cowboys and the cattle-- the Indians, and the lizzards always wandering through. They shimmer there in the heat waves somehow. And yet, more modern visitors don't diminish its grandeur. So glad you toured a bit. --Charlie
Kate,
A rich canvas, superb in observation and detail, the little things mattering so much in the context, and all reaching a soft landing in a glorious "first rays of spring" end.
John
Spirits there caught in the "whispers in cottongrass". Something that stirs in the wind and you can hear breathing. The "Ancient One" is evident in this write, Kate. Thoroughly enjoyed! Happy Easter to you and yours...Lin
The canvas-artist paints the Cathedral Rock, while you, the word-artist, paints a truly tranquil and wondrous scene of life, and leaving more for the readers imagination! A beautiful, expansive poem, dear Kate!!
Blessings and love - Micke
And Happy Easter
"Instead, on the far side of the brook,
an artist’s moated tranquillity
erects a canopy of space,
stalks the wilderness
of a moment in dabs
of bloodied colour
and strokes of bristled pine."
Kate....wonderful write....you are my source of inspiration....amazing poet you are....the more I read you the more I learn from you.....love n luck....BHUWAN!!!
This is great, Kate, very nice scene.
I wish I was more adept at art, I visit
many beautiful sites... nothing better
than seeing an artist at their craft.
Great description of that :)
this describes the artistic external beauty Cathedral Rock offers, when one hikes within and upon her walls, the inner descriptors of feminine energy may also be released.
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
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Instead, on the far side of the brook,
an artist’s moated tranquillity
erects a canopy of space,
and:
his hand is drawn,
patient as sagebrush,
to the rock he paints,
whose palm (towering above
and raised in priestly blessing)
stills this storm-rent ravine
as it whispers in cottongrass
first rays of spring.
Especially like the sound of "ravine" and "spring."
- David
I love how you crawl into nature and into the work and thinking of others with your words. The mastery is in the reading, and you should know that I am there with you observing every incident and person named herein. Tell me that there will be many more. - Bill
I love the way you used the repetitive soft "s" sound at the end to hold out the hushed feeling a little longer. Maybe that is what gave me that feeling of quietude. I don't know...hee, hee... either way, I will just shush now so as to leave the painter undisturbed...
Cryssa :~)
Seems like the big west never changes. One expects to see the cowboys and the cattle-- the Indians, and the lizzards always wandering through. They shimmer there in the heat waves somehow. And yet, more modern visitors don't diminish its grandeur. So glad you toured a bit. --Charlie
A rich canvas, superb in observation and detail, the little things mattering so much in the context, and all reaching a soft landing in a glorious "first rays of spring" end.
John
Cheers,
Dan
Blessings and love - Micke
And Happy Easter
an artist’s moated tranquillity
erects a canopy of space,
stalks the wilderness
of a moment in dabs
of bloodied colour
and strokes of bristled pine."
Kate....wonderful write....you are my source of inspiration....amazing poet you are....the more I read you the more I learn from you.....love n luck....BHUWAN!!!
God bless YOU, darlin'~
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :D
(((HUGS))) and love, and God bless YOU, Karla.
Regis
I wish I was more adept at art, I visit
many beautiful sites... nothing better
than seeing an artist at their craft.
Great description of that :)