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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476748" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Long Day Painting By Myself Down By The Lake</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Long day painting by myself down by the lake <br>where I used to paint with you many years ago, <br>and now your absence haunts my solitude <br>as I grey my greens with cool alizarin red<br>and though the trees and the water are the same<br>it's a much eerier world just to know once <br>you who were here with me, are utterly gone, <br>and what has carried on without you, though <br>I'm affably intimate with its creative characteristics<br>is wholly estranged from the name I'll write on this painting. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As if an era in art had passed. Dreams and assumptions, <br>things you take for granted because in living them <br>you sometimes must, like love and oxygen, <br>and the presumption of life going on between us, <br>for the most part unplanned, <br>but a commingling of waters nevertheless, <br>a sharing in the other's quiet amazement <br>that the other exists as they are in your mindscape at all. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A heron rises from the cattails in the shallows. <br>A fish jumps at a dragonfly on the tip of a sword <br>of the wild irises in a muddle of mystic indigo <br>and a sulphur butterfly struggles in the thick pthalo blue <br>of the sky I slashed in with my painting knife<br>as if I were grouting the canvas like a mason<br>to lay a fieldstone wall that wouldn't keep the birds out<br>that have learned to ignore me like a scarecrow <br>in warpaint ghost dancing at an easel<br>spreading its legs like a doe <br>come out of the woods <br>to drink quietly from its own reflection.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Everything seems thriving and deserted.<br>The waterlilies still clutter the wild rice <br>like prolific constellations of the frogs <br>whose singing doesn't sound all that bad after awhile. <br>I'm a curiosity to the fox <br>that's been taking a profound interest in my work <br>all afternoon as if I were some kind of savage impressionist<br>and it were a cultural savant with a few pointed suggestions. <br>Two raccoons luxuriating like moss on a femur of oak <br>behind me, watching me underpaint the lakeshore rocks <br>like two kids through the wire fence of a construction site.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Events of the day. Transactional armies in the grass, <br>bees and ruby throated humming birds <br>enabling the daylilies like pyromaniacs <br>and soon, the green dragon of the sumac <br>will burn in the auto de fe of the fall as well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But you are not here to mention it to<br>and compared to the quality of the isolation <br>I once lived here with you in paradise<br>the beauty of my painting lacks the highlights <br>and finished details I used to attend to <br>knowing how they'd shine by the light of your eyes <br>as an effect of the atmospherics you brought to the scene. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And though everything appears the same, <br>it's uncanny not to be heading homewards <br>with the shadows and the crows<br>as you and I did so many nights<br>well pleased with what <br>we laboured for all day in the sun<br>to a farmhouse full of paintings <br>whose windows cling to the remaining light<br>as we did like waterbirds for awhile <br>around a lake full of constellations <br>as the Eagle, the Swan and the Lyre, <br>went down behind the abstract expressions <br>of the sad geometry of the barn roof <br>weary of rusting like wavelengths of rippled tin, <br>not knowing whether it's holding out<br>against the wind, the rain, the field fires <br>or still holding something empty <br>as an urn full of stars <br>that were scattered like chimney sparks<br>on one of the coldest nights of my life, in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476748" data-title="Long Day Painting By Myself Down By The Lake de Patrick White" data-description="Long day painting by myself down by the lake 
where I used to paint with you many years ago, 
and now your absence haunts my solitude 
as I grey my greens with cool alizarin red
and though the trees and the water are the same
it's a much eerier wo..."></div>
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