Thursday, April 13, 2006

A young poet and an older doodler

Recently I posted haiku written by my youngest granddaughter. At the time her older sister hadn't given me permission to post her poem....but she finally answered me and gave me the "ok"....so here is a poem by my 17 year old granddaughter....

The Only Truth

Listen to her
With your heart
Her life winding forever, a string binding her to life
And if life were taken
Would she believe them
Their eyes hooded in shadows of black fear
And love
Yes, love
Now, holding a world in your perfect hands
You will dream of a future
Where there is beauty to touch
True captivating beauty, spun
Like silent golden stars
And beaded into her veins
Her blood can hold the curse
And her eyes can hold the pain
But who will she know in the end
When all minds are empty as her eyes
And the only truth is blank.

Both of my granddaughters have grown up with freedom to explore and learn at their own pace. Their very young lives were spent entirely with their parents....they were always together. Their mom carried them on her back papoose-style when they were babies, and so they were part of every thing that went on in their parent's lives.

HB and I went for a visit once when my oldest granddaughter was about 3 or 4 years old. My son and his family lived in a remote part of Montana at the time. My granddaughter would draw on anything, and as she drew she would spin a story about what was going on in her pictures. One of my favorites was about a little girl picking berries in the woods and then taking them back to her mom so they could make a pie.

Her stories and drawings were always very detailed, with lots of people. My son told me he thought she drew that way because there were very few people in her life. She created people to compensate for the lack of the real thing!

She has now grown into a lovely young woman with an interest in dance and drama. I hope she is able to pursue her dreams and have a creative life.

And just so this isn't a "naked" post here is a doodle I did a few days ago. I'm not sure what this is and I don't even want to think of what Freud might say about it.



I seem to either doodle weird geometric shapes or curvy, flowing lines. I have, at times, filled whole pages with tiny little geometric shapes. Obviously, I had waaay too much time on my hands!!!

4 comments:

  1. The poem is lovely and I LOVE the doodle!

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  2. Dear friend, the doodle says to me
    "you have life growing out of even hard unbelieable places" and that is so you. Full of life and always something fresh and new. I loved it, liked the poem also. Made me remember our younger days.

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  3. I love the poem! Your doodle is wonderful! I see images of the Crow Indian dancers. Have you ever watched them? Their costumes are a blur of color when they dance and the only part of their costume that seems to stay defined is usually their feathered headdress!

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  4. Thanks for the nice comments about the poem. I'll be sure to tell my granddaughter.

    Thanks, too, for the comments on my doodle. gail, I think you know me too well! and debbi the Crow dancers sound really interesting. I would love to see them.

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