Orpheus

All posts tagged Orpheus

The Fortune

Published October 22, 2012 by rlmcdermott

I am not afraid!

I have lived with death
so long that it’s a friend,
a flower growing in a garden
yet to be discovered–
a song unwritten.

This was meant to be,
you and I,
this never meeting,
this always being met.

I’ll stand beside you,
I’ll walk the walk
until the road grows steep
and flowers bend their heads.

I’ll be the love that lets you go,
the love that never leaves;
I’ll live a thousand lifetimes
and die a thousand deaths
until I find you in the paper trees,
the silver moon, the polished stone.

I’ll be all autumn and all spring,
the seasons of my love will never cease,
and I will bring you home again
where home has never been.

Eurydice’s Last Words to Orpheus

Published October 7, 2012 by rlmcdermott

I knew that
it would burn
but I wanted
one more chance
to feel the heat.

Fire is as fire
does–it turns
to ashes all
it loves.

Up the narrow
path I went
riding shotgun
on my art–

the god ahead
was not a god
but just a man.

Inside the flame
I could not hear
whose name
he called;

I thought it mine
but I was wrong–
the song was beautiful
but it was not my song.

A woman scorned
is just a woman
scorned but I am
so much more;

and so, I’ll keep
my hand inside
the flame

and he will never know
the stillness of my fire,
the beauty of my name.

The Wounding

Published August 31, 2012 by rlmcdermott

waiting for something
that’s finally come
there’s an art to that
that wanting
the hard wood of it
no sound except
my own breathing

not sure if the
sound of it is mine
cell rubbing against cell
transfer paper against stone
names dates relationships
the artifacts of a life
my life dreaming itself

It’s all about death

Hieroglyphics on my skin
numbers letters signs
signs and wonders
all against my skin
burning into my flesh
words everywhere
none making sense
lost love
lost life
what mattered most was the dream

did I dream it all
family friends art life
was it worth standing still

is this what Eurydice knew
when she hoped he would turn around
not to go back
not to have to live again
the constant feeling of failure
the waiting
the questions
is it here
is it today
will it be tomorrow
how long
how much longer

and then it’s here
and you’re not afraid
just sad
waiting does that to you
and then the god touches
you on your shoulder
and says he has turned around

Beautiful Vampire

Published May 23, 2012 by rlmcdermott

How many years
have I waited
in this place–

no shadow
sheltering me,

no song
giving comfort,

only memory
holding me
in its closed hand?

Then one day
I asked a question,
threw it in the air

and there you were–
a creature, different
yet the same,

tortured by a demon
that has so many names
it thinks that it’s a god.

And so for you;

I’ll wait beneath
these paper trees
for all the sunsets left to me–
I’ll be the water in the fire,
the blackened stone,
the insect at the end of day
all leg and tender bone.

Job Description

Published May 23, 2012 by rlmcdermott

I grew outside your
window. I came every
evening and knocked
at your door. I
kept watch in the
sky while you slept.
I was there, I was constant
and I was invisible.

I was the moon,
I was the shadow
in the field at sunset,
I was the red poppy,
the blue hydrangea,
the yellow coneflower.

This is who I was
and who I wasn’t;
I was all things
to you and I was nothing.

I will never love
like this again–with
such an open hand.
Remember when you
can remember nothing;
I was the song in the wind,
the flower in the garden,
the moon in the moonlight,
the memory in the forgetting.

On Interpretation

Published March 28, 2012 by rlmcdermott

I’ve always been a person who struggled with meaning.  Not the “meaning” of my life but what something means.  From  the time I was a kid I’ve always had to listen real hard to what people were saying–did they mean me when they said that, is there a message there for me, have I done something wrong?  It’s like I speak a different language than the rest of the world and have to filter everything through a lens that is deeply clouded.  Perhaps that is why I love music and poetry and art so much.  I don’t need to understand; I only need to feel!   As an artist, I think of my work in specific ways–drawing, mixed-media, experimental, narrative, landscape, colorful, however, because of my  own confusion about “meaning”  I don’t expect anyone to share my viewpoint about my work.  When I approach a painting, or a poem, or a song; I bring myself and all the history that life has burdened me with as audience.  If you truly want to be creative then you can’t put fences around your work.  The work must be free but you have to understand that a viewer, a listener will find in your work what they need, not what you need.  I invite people to tell me what they see in my drawings.  Sometimes it is very intimidating!   Recently a friend asked me “When did you move from the rain into the sunshine?”  I was stunned!  Did she see that in my drawings, did she see that in me, or was she telling me about herself?  No work of art is entirely removed from the artist but the artist, certainly, cannot prevent the audience from finding meanings that are necessary to them.  Good art will always transcend the artist because it allows for interpretation.  You can’t tell the world that you want your art to be “free” and then get angry because someone called your drawing  “a painting”,  your poem “a song” or your song “a poem.”  My life has taught me that meaning is at best elusive.  I have survived because I’ve always understood that every work of art, that every poem, that every song is there to comfort me in this hard thing called life.  What artist could ask for more?