First comes vermillion – anger of loss. Next – cruelty of cadmium yellow. I knock back the winter with ultramarine, my punishment over. The weft of the canvas is burnt out; a spring may emerge, a weathered stone fall. Somewhere within this jumble of colour lies an intimate landscape; somewhere there’s a Prussian blue lake, a crack in the mountain, an escape of mist. Each glaze, each scumble brings me closer.
brushstrokes done:
colours meld into mountains
dreams into lakes
Catherine Edmunds is a poet/novelist and illustrator from North East England whose literary style can be encapsulated in the title of her solo poetry collection, ‘wormwood, earth and honey,’ and whose artwork veers between delicate portraiture, exploding dogs and decomposing toads. Her second novel, ‘Small Poisons,’ described as ‘The contemporary novel for Midsummer Night’s Dreamers,’ is now available from Circaidy Gregory Press.
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21 Responses to “(UNTITLED HAIBUN) • by Catherine Edmunds”
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February 9th, 2010 at 12:15 am
I had a problem with the use of the word “into” in the final section.
colours = mountains
dreams = lakes
Not the same thing, and therefore jarring. One of those four elements should have to change to be correct.
Lovely lines, especially “dreams into lakes.”
February 9th, 2010 at 1:29 am
A wonderfully vivid cacophony of colour – if that make sense.
Dunno about ‘meld’ though. Sounded cliched. What about ‘melt’? Possibly equally cliched, but a more evocative word.
That said, a five from me!
February 9th, 2010 at 4:14 am
Cacophony of color indeed! The frustration of a painter choosing colors = a writer choosing words.
I agree with the colours/mountains and dreams/likes. Not sure of your intent. Peace, Linda
February 9th, 2010 at 5:18 am
The cadmium yellows are beautiful colors, why are they described as “cruel”? What burned out the weft of the canvas? Do you mean only “warp” remains? As for the form in seemingly prose paragraph – that doesn’t bother me at all. It isn’t the punctutation that makes the poem. The punctuation is only assistance to reading.
Interesting poem, a lot to explore, but a mountain and a lake aren’t intimate. That requires a person.
February 9th, 2010 at 7:57 am
I think this is beautiful, especially the last two lines. I love the “dreams into lakes”.
February 9th, 2010 at 8:50 am
Me too, Robin! I think it’s just lovely.
February 9th, 2010 at 8:57 am
I see mountains as solid like block of colour and lakes as fluid and akin to dreams in their fluidity. I thought those vivid images. Meld I think has more muscularity than melt. I liked that.
February 9th, 2010 at 9:52 am
I love how this piece asks its readers to consider the possibility of how emotion shows up on the canvas, how colors do indeed meld into an image, how intensely personal such a process is.
February 9th, 2010 at 10:38 am
Kathleen expressed that well.
I think “meld” is the perfect word here.
February 9th, 2010 at 12:55 pm
Beautiful. I love the form, and I agree that ‘meld’ is just right.
February 9th, 2010 at 3:07 pm
Liked the words and imagery. Not inclined to appreciate the “form”.
February 10th, 2010 at 7:39 am
fishlovesca – In this landscape both colours and dreams (is it a dream landscape?) are the tools of the painter in this poem. Could the poet have meant dreams (not the same thing as imagination) “TRANSFORM” into lakes naming two tools, “colors” and “dreams” in succession?
February 11th, 2010 at 2:02 pm
Many thanks for all the comments!
February 11th, 2010 at 3:43 pm
Really like this – excellent use of the form.
February 11th, 2010 at 4:23 pm
Expression and emotion. Rock and lake. The frustration of both, beautifully put. Kudos!
February 12th, 2010 at 1:20 am
I just love the painting – and the landscape it depicts, both of which now exist.
February 12th, 2010 at 1:47 am
A fine haibun, visual and evocative. I like the sound of ’scumble’ but now need to find out what it means! Well done.
February 12th, 2010 at 6:45 am
Mandy – Thickly painted oil or plastic paints have a rough surface. A “scumble” is a paint-loaded brush lightly brushed on the surface so that the peaks of dried paint under the brush receive the new color but leave the full color of the depressions in the bottom surface to be visible between the peaks of scumble.
February 12th, 2010 at 10:38 am
A beautiful poem and one that elicits so many responses. I like to sit and read and reread and discover new aspects and this is a poem that makes me want to do that. The artist and the poet in Cathy shine through.
February 28th, 2010 at 8:42 am
Rather brilliant, I think. Well done, Cathy, as usual.
March 11th, 2010 at 4:18 am
Five stars from me. A wonderful melding of poetry and colour.
I enjoyed being introduced to the word scrumble too.