Each April I host several sessions of creative groups around a poem or artwork for the purpose of creating a gallery show in the Keeler Gallery each July and August. This has been happening now for 6 years. At first, we had artists provide artwork that poets/writers responded to. After a couple of years of that process, the artists wanted to play, too, so we turned it around. Poems were given to the artists for them to create new works of art. Recently, another adventure was tried out (last year was the first year) where I presented one poem to all those involved. Everyone created based on that one poem. The exhibit became more cohesive and the process became much more fun (at least to me, as the facilitator, getting to see new art and poems come out of one starting point).
This year, 2015, we are doing the same process again. Everyone responded to a William Stafford poem, entitled “A Ritual To Read To Each Other.” In early July, the results were displayed in the Keeler Gallery at Fountain Street Church and I have decided to share the entries here, as well. This exhibit will be shown throughout July and August. There will be a poetry reading on August 23 at 1 p.m. in the Chapel of FSC.
So I will try to post a poem or artwork each day upcoming until we have them all here. It will be fun!!
Here is one by Roberta Rossi:
Parade sounds fade beyond the bend;
we straggle through the settling dust —
strangers walking in different rhythms,
some short of shouting breath,
some without the ticket price.
We sidle along together, dusty shoes scuff
between trampled fields of torn signs,
dropped banners, that children jump.
We remember our favorite games and
even admit to a dear, magic number.
At the turning there are signs of diverging;
several trails now lure on to distant hills,
too far to gain in the gathering dusk.
We settle on the roadside to consider.
Stories draw us closer, smiles luminous.
Right now is enough, this melding of wanderings;
an enlightening found, going beyond the befores,
as star-strucked minds gain a waiting space.
Heart in hand we join across one another.
We hold as we are held, waiting the dawn.
— Roberta Rossi