Showing posts with label artistic expression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label artistic expression. Show all posts

Sunday, December 4, 2022

Of Art, and the Artistic Heart (new poem)

 


Of Art, and the Artistic Heart

Tim Kavi


a solemn work

there is something to see

I don't know quite yet

what will it be?


but as the notes play on

the fires of inspiration

burning perspiration

show the words that speak


they keep me awake at night

sometimes wrestling with angels

dangling across the abyss

so serious is this?

I am laughing laughing laughing

postwar blisses


on canvases of many

some are blank

and some are puny

but I will damn well say it


on a written page

a flickering screen

a dusty memory

of a forgotten sage


there is a history to be told

but most importantly

a creative burst of energy

as quantum moments unfold


I know what is seen

will be revealed

in the final scene

no longer concealed


a coherent whole

finally uttered

in the words that flowed

now uncluttered


there is only what the art

reveals, sad and contrite

happy and longing for


of words, senses, and bits

of trances

and ecstatic fits

the uttered cannot be brought back

the published is what is said

the last reel

the messy editing room

other words and images on the floor

images await for expressions more


are you a lover

or just a whore?

being or seeming

what's the score?

maybe only the artist will know


for in both cases you are

undressed before the world!


of art, and the artistic heart

of life, and limb

and pounding heart


of kisses in works of love

of meanings in the messages

concealed in stories told


of prophets shaking

peeing in the wind

of actors quaking

before the cameras roll


there is only the revealed

final work expressed

revisions done at last

where all is made manifest


you who imagines

as if an iconoclast

a historical revisionist

of things made past

speak truth if you can

that dialogue will last!


of the two made one

the collapsing waves

of art, and the artistic heart


Oh, be not forgotten

that not for a moment

lost and unbegotten

your words stand sure

it is finally clear


of art, and the artistic heart.



Saturday, September 25, 2021

What My Artist Says (new poem)

 


What My Artist Says
by Tim Kavi

there won't be any stopping me now
the words are flowing
the lamps are burning oil
the afterfires are burning

and it won't matter to me
because the fire is burning 
purging the blues away
no matter what time of day

what matters is the work
the flowing words that drop
like paint on a blank page
that bring a meaning I never observed

that brings happy memories
joyful sad juxtapositions of place
in the black-shrouded dropcloth
of space, there is only me in the void

can I bravely create?
no shrinking back? no holding back!
until the words are done
the colors set

destroyed by Siva
sands wiped by monk sweeps
in the morning of my next
existence, I will keep saying

words of the artist
painting painting painting painting
I don't care what you think
let me just throw paint!

damnit, help me
or get out of the way 
can't you see my tears 
are starting to flow?

to the spaces, and creases
I don't want to go
but when the work is finished
is it a work on me?

or something I needed to say
to help society?
I don't know, I just want to throw
to hurl paint

at the whispering wind
the canvas of Nature
catches it, as it is expressed
in my deepest heart!

and around the next bend
the curtain is pulled back
revealed for what the deeper 
purpose has wrought

until the sands of time
move someone else to say it again
and again, fooling transcendence
but never cheating the permanent void

there is the going, the turning
the burning nights, the glorious sights
of Her reveal, muses eternal
proclaiming what is to be read

because on Her lips it has already
been said, across the ancient skies
since time has been born
down below her hips

the birthing of all that is
in countless stories told, 
pages worn, heartbreaks torn
in the light of history's torch

frames of flickering images
burn my sand burned eyes now
tell more stories, with much 
more disguise, but still

flickering shadows reveal 
the cave wall, of artists' 
inspiration, in a great reveal
there it is! There it is!

now showing
no hiding what has been done
just the completed picture
until tomorrow's sun.

Monday, March 4, 2019

no fast exit (poem)


no fast exit (poem)
by Tim Kavi

hey you
not so fast 
where are you going?

I have swallowed
a globe as truth
flattened earth

has left me wanting
wondering
and now, wandering

where is the man
I once was?
the international

has consumed
all that he was
writing lines

in the sand
but it's not dismal
the voice

returns like a wave
breaking across the shore
where he still exists.

Thursday, June 7, 2018

A-musing Wisecracks Across the Mind (poem)


A-musing Wisecracks Across the Mind (poem)

by Tim Kavi

watching out eight ways to beat
up around the bend
the shuffling of feet
Terpsichore moves so sweet

moving in dialectical ways
hegel and Marx wink wink
Linehan too; what's my storied days
basking in Clio's sunny rays

what's the rub; long tales at night
Ode to all longly said
grinning, bringing the light
Calliope eats a cantaloupe; such a sight

consuming me; love's sting
staying awake is no worry
linger long, no hurry, ring ring
with Eratos, love's the thing

A-musing laughing goddesses
dance across gardens
bulls in China shop hippotamuses
advocate very deep hypotheses (sic)

incorporating movements of verse
song and dance; cutting glass
poetry in planetary motions reverse
fading history finds it all the worse

until she dabs my feverish head.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Little David and the Dancing Monkey (Story Poem)




Little David and the Dancing Monkey
by Tim Kavi

when across the eddying
spheres of time
there is an existence in
a moment
between young and old

is it the generations
talking?
or just me myself
longing for something I knew
or making sense of what
I am taught

the clever young minstrel did sing
and dance
doing battles for the great
and good
on a journey to the West

Are you me?
The minstrel asked.

No, I am Sun Wukong.
I use my skills
like this...swoosh swoosh
swoosh!

I see! Said the minstrel
preparing his stringed
instrument

I am named after you, though
I am your nephew
Little David

Uncle David smiled
chuckled
and said: You were dancing
quite a bit
let me sing you a song
while you rest

Oh? You play the guitar!
My father told me
Oh, what a treat!

It is my own Journey to the West
while my guitar gently weeps
playing notes of blest or blast
roaring like a stratocaster
but please be calmed

and like a David and his harp

soon the notes filled the air
with sweet sounds
of poetry flying there

the young Sun Wukong
could not stop himself
he danced and twirled
like some Dervishes
from another place

"I can tell you are a legend
You should never settle for less
hang on to the skirt of existence
such preciousness in Guan Yin
rises to meet you
and bless"

Uncle David did sing!

while the prettiest sounds
that little boy
ever heard
the Fender did bring

and when the song ended
the little dancer
that Monkey King
had tears in his eyes

Oh Uncle David!
You sing so nice.
Thank you so much!

Uncle David smiled
No problem, he said

at that moment
Little David's father
entered the room

Father! Father!
Uncle David sang me a song
and played his guitar
You were right!

Yes son, life is great
art and love
and family and truth
are all around us

to Uncle, father said
Thank you!
It's great to see you!

Uncle David smiled
Father said
Little David's mother
had prepared
an evening meal

a supper for a dancing monkey
a skilled minstrel
a poet father
two brothers
and a clever child

Father??
Yes son?
After supper
may I show Uncle David
my moves
with my monkey stick?

Yes son,
but please be careful
you can put an eye out
with that thing!

everyone laughed.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Tim Kavi Starts New Year with Latest Publication








My Latest Publication
by Tim Kavi

Hello, All!  First of all, a very Happy New Year to each and every one of you!  I hope that your New Year brings you health, prosperity, and happiness!

My New Year began less conspicuously than I imagined with the publication of Athena: Queen of the Air by John Ruskin, on January 1,2013 from TiLu Press. This work, an updated and annotated version from an 1869 work, includes new material for modern readers who are interested in Greek mythology, mythology, or Goddess themes and motifs.  In particular, the book talks about the Goddess Athena in great detail.  My essay about Athena is one of the three forewords in the 2013 edition of this book. I am honored by the inclusion.

My essay: 'Athena: Greek Goddess of Wisdom and War' was one of my blog entries here last May. You can click here to read it.  I suppose this amounts to a disclosure, as my foreword (only one of three in the book) is reprinted with my permission for the book. I assure you that there is much more in this book that makes it worthwhile to read if you are a fan of goddesses, Greek Art and Mythology, mythology, and art criticism in general.  I really hope readers of both works (my blog and the book) don't mind this fact that my Foreword is published in both places.  To me, it is simply about getting the message out to as many readers as possible.

I enjoyed reading this eBook, and if you're interested in Goddesses too, I think you'll enjoy it just like I did! I certainly learned a lot about Athena that I never knew before!  The book also contains an introduction that covers much background about John Ruskin, Athena, Ruskin's Athena and information about the 2013 edition.  Other new annotated material (never before published anywhere) includes an original essay on Athena by Kelli M. Webert titled: 'Athena: Queen of the Air and Breath of Inspiration' and finally, a chapter titled:  'A Brief Literary Biography of John Ruskin'.

Overall, the book 'Athena: Queen of the Air' is an interesting work of Greek Mythology and art criticism that discusses the Goddess Athena in great detail. I hope you will enjoy it!

From the Book Blurb:

"Very thorough, and inspiring, Ruskin, ever the Victorian Age's greatest art critic, utters praise to Athena, and in doing so, speaks some of the most poetic words ever used in English to describe the goddess."--Tim Kavi, Poet

"And so the Spirit of the Air is put into, and upon, this created form; and it becomes, through twenty centuries, the symbol of divine help, descending, as the Fire, to speak, but as the Dove, to bless."---John Ruskin

Currently Available as a Kindle and Kindle Apps Edition--by clicking here.

THANKS! ~~TK





Saturday, November 24, 2012

Too Many Words (New Poem)


Too Many Words

by Tim Kavi

there are too many words
in space
and not enough meaning
even if I dreamed them
every night
I cannot find them

for I cannot find you
my love
my delight
it has become dark night

coldness is wrapped
around my soul
like a blanket
and it won't let me go

my fears threaten
to consume me
but this is only my mind
when all around me
is the dying of light

the coming of night
is when shadows become immersed
in the dark
lonely songs I cannot bear

I awake
to face the coldest morning
snow has fallen
everywhere

fluttering eyes
open, I am
to wonder, rub eyes
to stare
see you there

I see all is beauty
in the woman
standing there

and the words
that had slowed like Winter
flowed in the promise
that if I kept speaking

kept writing
Spring will come there
in the hearts
of two

the glories of rebirth
as all the words
of love flow

while outside the snow
falls anew.


Thursday, September 6, 2012

Slapped Poet with A Dark I" (new poem)












"Slapped Poet with A Dark I"
by Tim Kavi

I once saw a semi naked man
sitting on the street

My mistake was in thinking
I was somehow better than him


I saw the vastness of the Universe
on one sleepy night

It did not stop me from snoring


I once received an important letter

It promised an exotic vacation


I parked my car carefully on a quiet street

On a backstretch Interstate 270 a sniper
watched traffic through his sights


I saw a pretty flower emerge in the dirt

A few days later, it was not there.

Friday, March 9, 2012

More About Goddesses: Saraswati--The Artistic Goddess (Essay)


More About Goddesses: 

Saraswati – The Artistic Goddess
by Tim Kavi

For every Indian artist, the goddess Saraswati is a major influence. To them, all art – old and new – starts with Saraswati. She is the Hindu goddess of music, knowledge and creative arts and is also known as Vak Devi, or the goddess of speech.

Originally from the creation of the goddess that Brahma fashioned after himself of whom half was woman and half was man. The woman part of this goddess was called Gayatri, but later she became known by several other names, one of them being Saraswati.

She appears always in all white and usually is seen riding atop a swan, but sometimes can be seen on a peacock instead. She plays music on a veena, and holds in her hands a mala, or prayer beads, and palm leaf scroll to show knowledge.

Indian students take the power of Saraswati very seriously, and a daily mantra can be recited to supposedly improve their concentration, memory and power in their studies. They regularly worship Saraswati in hopes to do well on their tests, as well. There is a temple, Vilma Vashi, which is solely dedicated to Saraswati.

In yoga, Saraswati is represented as the neutral channel in a trio that also includes the lunar energy channel which symbolizes the river Ganga and the solar energy channel which represents the river and the Yamuna goddess. Then the upward flow of the Kundalini goes straight through the central channel, Saraswati, to pierce the chakras and bring liberation. This convergence is called Triveni Sangam and takes place near Allahabad.

In summary, general aspects of the Goddess Saraswati includes her status as the wife (consort) of Lord Brahma and the fact that it is she that possesses the powers of speech, wisdom and learning. She has four hands representing four aspects of human personality in learning; mind, intellect, alertness and ego. 

Often, she has sacred scriptures in one hand and a lotus (a symbol of true knowledge) in the second. With her other two hands she plays the music of love and life on the violin (veena).  She is also often dressed in white ( a sign of purity) and rides on a white goose (swan). Regardless of how you view her, and in what manifestation, surely the Goddess Saraswati is one of the most interesting Goddesses in the Hindu pantheon.



Thursday, February 23, 2012

My Grandma the Poet (A Memoir) (repost with New Foreword)


new foreword:


Today would have been my maternal grandmother's 112th birthday.  I am reposting the following blog entry about her as a tribute (originally posted here in 2008).  I cannot tell you how much she means to me.  She was my earliest poetic influence and taught me much... Happy Birthday Grandma. Love, that's the biggest reason I write poetry. ~~TK  BTW, the style is open prose, so forgive [sic] the lack of punctuation and informal qualities. 

My Grandma the Poet (A Memoir)

A true story from my hometown life:

I grew up in a small town and loved grandma and visited her house
I stayed there lots of weekends
even until my late teens

she made homemade candy
and treats, good homecooked meals
and the holidays everyone in the family came there

aunts and uncles and lots of cousins
there weren't any boy cousins
although I had two brothers
(they were much older than I)
I made mudpies with my girl cousins
who giggled incessantly
and told me how to cook
fine pies in the mud

grandma tended to her kids
but when she got older she worked a little...

grandma was the town "cookie" cooking burgers that all the teens loved at the soda five and ten

you know the malt shops with soda jerks? in the 1950s...

post war bums with some slicked back hair and cars with big fins

susie was over in the corner
eatin' grandma's burgers

grandma was behind the counter and she grins

watchin the drama unfold
susie ignored the man's advances
and all the other cooks
cackled

susie was a real good looker

I had a burger there in the Soda Fountain place in the late 70S before they tore down the place
the same owner was there but he was Cookie now, and grandma was living in the twilight of her life. the place was empty, but the food was still good and you could get a lot for your money all the noise was down the street at some fast food place. There wasnt even a battle of the bands no more. The owner worked there with his son who never had another job and stayed with his daddy till the end even though he was all grown

I went to grandma's house for a visit soon
after seeing her old working place

grandma was rockin
in her rocking chair
writing poems and crocheting and watching Bonanza, Highway to Heaven (she loved Michael Landon) and, Portland wrestling

when she gave advice you listened

I never forgot her
her love was the most patient teacher

any grandson could have
and I often told her I loved her so

from as far back as I remember..
I have memories like this:

grandma would say Timmie
and was happy to see some of my first poems
scrawled in crayon
or pencil
so grandma and me would write at the same time when I was little and she was so big in my little eyes


her gentle ways taught me more about the
goddess than just about anbody
I know

I think grandma was a goddess

she would write poems by the hours
on sheets of typing and notebook paper college ruled
and writing tablets

all handwritten in very large letters

I was high enough to peek over the arm of the chair to watch what she was doing

if I was good and asked real nice
grandma would read me some
out loud

she had a way with words

these were lyrics and fine ballads

born in 1900 on a homestead she was a country girl
grandpa was a sharecropper
they seemed poor
but rich in so many ways

but we were so happy

grandma liked reading romance magazines
in that rocking chair
songs of home, heart, romance

and her and grandpa were married for more than 50 years

you know grandma taught me
a lot

and every once in awhile
when I write a poem now
I think grandma sees it

I hold it up to her just like I used to and you know what?

she grins

and that still makes me pretty damned happy.

here's an excerpt from one of
grandma's poems:

Tomorrow's End

My wonderful kids
How I love you so
I must know if there is a place
For me, or a home to go.

I won't need many extras
Just a bed at nite
A place to love my grandchildren
And my poetry to write.

Could I have a chair by a window
With the sun shining in
That would make me so happy
As my eyes grow dim.

I'd be all settled in comfort
Shielded from the cold
What a glorious feeling to know
Then I am growing old...


author's note: grandmothers can be terribly important. as you can tell, mine was extremely important to me. the poet "gene" certainly runs in my family...my grandma, my mother, and both my daughters write prose that inspires and moves me across all time.~~TK

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Gentle Hands (New Poem) with Poet comment


Gentle Hands
by Li Jili 李吉利 (Chinese Pen Name for Tim Kavi)
A poem that celebrates the work of Artist 冯涛
gentle hands
tested and found true
rode wings
of feathered friends
in view

gentle hands
sculpted lines
flowers
no darkness
never night
but in Summer's sun
so bright

gentle hands
with promise
drew
sketched
painted
inspired
by family's love
we too

gentle hands
breezes
of inspiration
birds flew in sky
landed on branches
ducks and other
fowl played
nearby

gentle hands
we came from afar
paid homage to
the creatures
who swam
and did fly

and saw
Nature's beauty
from 冯涛

gentle hands
so greatly seen
so near

from the artist
my family knew

manifested
in power and grace
they do appear.
Poet's Note: This is a poem celebrating the work of Chinese artist, 冯涛. Here my name is Li Jili which is my Chinese pen name. I recently had the pleasure of visiting his home and watching him work in Shandong Province.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Artist John Stuart Berger by Tim Kavi (Article)



Tim Kavi has had an online article published at:

http://soulfulpen.com/Imagine/?page_id=216

Title:  John Stuart Berger 
by Tim Kavi

Publication:  Imagine Magazine (Art Magazine); July 2009

This is an article on John Stuart Berger, an artist from the Sacramento California area.

Update:  The link above no longer works (as of 2013), so I have reproduced the article below in its entirety.  (I do retain authorial copyright).  Hope you enjoy it! ~~TK


John Stuart Berger
By Tim Kavi

Sacramento artist John Stuart Berger has no problem taking his inspiration from a plethora of creatures that fly, swim, or crawl, as he puts it.  Berger, who as a youngster caught the creatures and played in the woods near the house where he grew up started drawing them at an early age.     Far from being a budding entomologist or aspiring bird lover like other kids interested in creepy crawlies or feathered friends, Berger grew up to become an artist with a delightful and creative yen for the creatures that he observed and  studied. 

By growing up in the rural area of Danville, Berger had plenty of opportunities to reflect on the creatures as he played near the creek, and studied Audubon-like Field Guides for inspiration.  This inspiration has led him to draw and sketch the creatures, and after developing a basic drawing, he would play with them, exaggerating their features, or changing their characteristics. (This was on paper and not as a genetic engineer).   Although the result of this process seems at times to take on an animated quality, or a cartoon quality, Berger says that the Field Handbooks and old Biology textbooks have been more of an influence on his style, than the slight exposure he had to comic books as a kid.  Berger has called this process of drawing additional features as ‘mutating’ them.   Once this happens, Berger took his creative process a step further, where he found that his art could not only mutate the creatures but morph them into different colors and new kinds of emotional lives.

By deconstructing and reshaping them as newly morphed beings that delight young and old, fascinate the curious, and overall, brings great interest among onlookers, Berger has given us alternative creatures that inspire and fascinate us and reminds us that the forces of Natural Selection could have come up with something entirely different if they only had the shaping skills that Berger has.

Berger's artistic vision certainly depicts the new creatures in a manner that adds emotional life, color, and plenty of room for mutated identities in interesting habitats that delights the imagination.  If only evolution were concerned with aesthetics and meaning rather that bare survival.  How much more interesting creatures could be, and Berger’s work certainly reminds us of that.  Gone are the dull blacks, and grays, and other shades that Natural Selection has selected for in the past, and added are much brighter colors that would surely make such creatures much more interesting in the natural world amongst landscapes of colorful habitat.  One wonders how they might avoid predators, but perhaps in their new worlds they are avoiding them.  Or at least, in Berger’s scheme, the new creatures have not gone unprotected, for they have acquired teeth and a bite that their ancestors might never have dreamed of!

Painting in a style that some might call pop surrealistic, and others have certainly seen as surrealism, Berger’s work has been featured at a number of shows as an up and coming artist.  Berger has done his work mostly in acrylics, but has done interesting work in ceramics, and some of his other paintings feature shapes and human figures rather than the creatures morphed and mutated from his youth.  John Stuart Berger is certainly an interesting talent, well worth the attention he gets, and even more so, his original and innovative work should be considered an interesting object of acquisition among serious art collectors.  

Artist: John Stuart Berger

http://www.johnstuartberger.com/
http://www.johnstuartberger.com/about/

About the author:  Tim Kavi is a poet from Portland, Oregon. Kavi’s first collection will be published shortly by Tilu Press.  “Emerging Goddess” is a collection of poetry that many see as love poems, others see as poetry that worships the sacred goddess in her many forms, and others say describes a longing for connection and dialogue with strong existential themes.  You can see some of his poetry at: http://www.timkavi.blogspot.com .





John Stuart Berger, Artist 

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Fresh Ceiling Paint (Poem with Brief Poet Comment)




Fresh Ceiling Paint by Tim Kavi

Each day's hues
danced in the flickering
candle light
as the lover
of his creation
fell asleep in the
gathering night

intricate eyes
for detail
had guided
artistic hands
in complex
patterns of reaching
across clouded skies

perfected in
the craft
of a master
with a facial grin

until the beauty
was seen
through the windows
a peaceful sheen

calling to ascend
the lonesome artist
painted through
winter's wind.

Brief Poet Comment: This poem is about perseverance in the artistic process. As I was writing it I visualized Michelangelo working on the ceiling at the Sistine chapel. The backbreaking work (literally lying flat on scaffolding), the dogged determination, the sacred art, left for the world to enjoy many years hence. Hence, it is : 'Fresh Ceiling Paint'.--T.K