Swap poems

Artists are people driven by the tension between the desire to communicate and the desire to hide.
~D.W. Winnicott

Iphigene and I sent each other poems for the first swap. I think they are sort of a conversation in themselves, even though we wrote them at the same time.

Iphigene explained that her poem for me was inspired by a book she was reading called The Lonely City by Olivia Liang, which explores the idea of loneliness through different artists.

She says, "While the poem may be a bit sad, I thought, since you had a blog that explored art, this would perfectly fit...I hope the poem is able to deliver, more than the idea of the lonely, but the way art connects the lonely with each other, hence in a way building this sort of invisible community." Iphigene also sent me an excellent drawing of hers to go with it:

The Lonely
By iphigene
(for tabatha)

Loneliness clings to souls
Like skin to bone

They are the lonely:
Bodies with big black
Voids digging into their bellies

There is no fire in them----
Only a chill, an eternal winter
Gnawing at their backs
seeping through their veins
Reminding them
They are the lonely.

Hopper, Warhol
Darger ---artists
Born with loneliness
Clinging to their souls---
Never to be erased
By crowds and art

Only to be eased,
Eased by the swelling
Depths of their voids
Into canvases, photographs
And prints

Eased by the birthing
Of their loneliness---
To be seen and felt
By those who walk with
big black voids
in their bellies
To stare into themselves
To recognize

That among the bodies
In a crowded city, in the midst
Of laughter and camaraderie
Are the lonely: just like
Them, just like me

Souls with loneliness
Clinging like skin
To their bones.

***********

My poem for Iphigene was inspired by a poem by L.L. Barkat. I’ll include it first:

Let's make walls like this,
you and I.
Not the kind that stand between us,
but the textured kind you might
run your fingers over
to find its heart. And a wall like this
would have a heart,
in case you were wondering.
Because we’d be painting our colors into it,
and it would look like sweet meyer lemon, aqua sky,
grass green (the kind you see in spring) —
and, love.

Here’s the poem for Iphigene:

Let's make scars
by Tabatha Yeatts

Let's make scars like this,
you and I.
Not the kind that
prove the wound stung,
but ones are smooth pink witnesses
to the healing, to the
sealing of the raw cut. No swollen
red streaks scalding the edges,
a scar like ours would mark recovery
that can withstand a poke or prod,
a sleek track that holds fast,
and signifies stories, survival,
and strength.

***********

Katie at The Logonauts is hosting the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Katie!