Writer and Artist
Let’s treat everybody like they’re their own country.
I will be the nation of Robertstan, a monarchy.
My people will think their king is a philosopher
and will extort from them all their hard labor.
With other countries we shall maintain relations
as a delegate in the house of an United Nations.
I’m afraid I might be the Woodcock type.
I too need to poison myself to feel better.
I too cannot tell the difference between
growing colder and growing more earnest.
Better to slave away at your own redemption
than ask someone else to waitress it for you.
But maybe there is someone out there who
knows me well enough to make me slave.
I think I could love a person like that
without ever realizing I was falling in love.
R. Charboneau
A critic is a great thing to behold.
Are they not the priests of all art?
Can they not summon great meaning
from the daimon hibernating in its art?
The artist needs the critic as much as
he needs the daimon. It’s the critic who
chases on the heels of the artist,
always keeping up with his pace.
A good critic will be close behind,
but a great critic will have struck out
ahead of the artist, calling back to him,
urging him to hurry up already.
R. Charboneau
Artwork: I. A. Richards on the Alps (1930)
You were all about on the bare ground
parsing litter from a naked, spidery tupelo
in the last cold light of day in the backyard.
I’d forgotten or was too lazy that morning
to spread any seed, so maybe you came back
after a long day’s searching to make one last go of it.
In the beginning was the word
and the word was always the word spoken
and the word that leaves the heart.
Peppy, Pretty, Posh, Prose, and Poetry
Words Thoughts
Inspired by life, death and everything inbetween
Poems with emphasis on musicality
Poetry, free verse, haiku, senryu, photography, books, art, philosophy , nature, literature.
learning to love the whirlwind that is my life
ΕΥΔΟΞΑ ΑΓΝΩΣΤΑ ΚΑΤΑΓΕΛΑΣΤΑ
Where writers gather
A lover
Resisting the Misanthropic Dicta of the Degenerate Cultural Elite
