to the girl who cut out papermoons &hangs them in a nut tree–

the story in a story is a hidden one sometimes
as if i could paint “making love on thursday afternoon”
because
which color would i choose?
so i have never
even started

she sits in her room
pretending
that between the scissor’s mouth
&papersheets exists
a stream, a forest
a breaking into funparks or the seaworld of imagined cities

&she’d guide the whales&dolphins– giants
of the waves back homeward, to the ocean

from each cut
each moon, each shape
escapes

a story
on thin threads, hardly see-able
she puts them

in a parchment town on the branches of a tree
that stretches gnarly limbs
towards the checkered tunes
of a thousand lunar landings
swaying contemplative in the breeze

“does she ever paint them?” i say to the tree

he shakes his head
“it wouldn’t stick, you know– too many stories”

&i lean against his trunk,

observing her,
head bowed, scissors in hand
a tiny ray of light steals
through the open window
“glad that she can trust you” i nod

&he hums

like only someone
who’s been seen
would.

.

today at dVerse, Abhra asks us to remember history and pay a tribute to all the unnamed artists whose works go forever un-credited

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23 responses to “to the girl who cut out papermoons &hangs them in a nut tree–

  1. The story in a story is well hidden indeed, like the poetry of the paper moons and the way they hide and glitter amidst the leaves in the tree…. oh, Claudia, you always transport me to a different place and time with your poems, no matter how rooted in the everyday they may be. Wonderful!

  2. I love how the imagination transports her into that other place, to fantasies.. the creation is the important part, and sitting there and cutting paper-moons sounds so full of energy.. we do not need to go further than to find the space and forests and all that exists between.

  3. Ha. Kids are so cool. There is so much potential in their imagination, between the lips of a scissor and the paper. And even if they screw up, they can build paper towns. (Which is an interesting movie/book, by the way.) There are definitely many stories – too many, maybe to stick but I will keep it that way.

  4. The question and answer approach works so well in this poem. Love the dialogue and the imagination. Choosing one’s colors is such an important thing.

  5. Color for the painter can be as elusive as tone for the poet/writer. How many times have each of us written something & shared it, & the comments come back as wistful, joyous, melancholy–ditto for paintings; one glance conjures up feelings & emotions, as do responses to color–warm, cold, dismal, sunny. This is another fine example of the leagues ahead of us your imagination catapults you, as we have all witnessed the creation of a full-blown artist emerge from sketches.

  6. Claudia – this is almost the story of my daughter and very adorable too – I wish I could show you how dedicated she is towards her paintings – well we don’t understand what she is painting, but keeps filling her sketchbooks with raw colors…

    “if i could paint “making love on thursday afternoon”
    because
    which color would i choose?” I guess it is almost like searching for words to paint emotions….

  7. I just spent the last few days with my grandchildren. They are too young to be artists, but just the right age to use their imagination. This poem just seemed to punctuate all the fun I had with them. As I read it, (with such delight), I couldn’t help but wonder about your vivid imagination. How blessed you are to have such a rich mind. The painting is uttely fantastic. I am amazed at the versatility of your talent!

  8. Such a happy one here–it made me think of a prompt based on an artist way back, I think it came from you and I wish I could think of the name of the artist. Stars and moons and little girls in trees and with umbrellas. I’m smiling.

  9. Wow, very rich in story telling Claudia ~ specially admire this part:

    that between the scissor’s mouth
    &papersheets exists
    a stream, a forest
    a breaking into funparks or the seaworld of imagined cities

  10. So many times I have wondered what colors I would paint a Thursday afternoon or a November morning…I like the dialogue in this and how you use your pen to paint for us another world. This is one of your best.

  11. Your words captivate as always Claudia leaving both wistful and pondering.

    “of a thousand lunar landings
    swaying contemplative in the breeze”

    The visualization of that is simply dreamy and yet so infused with reality I can actually *see* this happening.

  12. Claudia, I am commenting again as, apparently, my first comment never registered. Once again you have shared an intimate moment of your life in a unique manner. No one could ever invent the H&M comment your daughter made. I enjoyed the way you infused your poem with so many scents and tastes. And now I am hungry… and wondering what you were making.

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