Nahno McLein

Envy

Everyone is more,
runs forward
from goal to goal.

Incandescent
out of me
away



Where is mine,
where am I,
what's this anyway.

Incandescent
out of me
away



A tree, a lake,
climbing water
feels awake.
Diving through the sun.

Incandescent
out of me
away



Blue, red, yellow -
pink, fluffy lights
swirl through thoughts
and cloud my sight.

Incandescent
out of me
away




You got him,
he got her,
get to sin with sensibility.

Incandescent
out of me
away

Swimming free,
going everywhere I wanna be,
if this envy didn't follow me.

Out of me!

This was wonderful blogfest with so many exciting entries. Thrilling to host it.

Now it's time for the winner. Below you find the 10 best entries that included "art". All entries were great, but the nature of art is restricted. That's why we have only one winner:

The $20 voucher for CSNstores goes to:
Laura from Daily Dodo

Here is her entry:
Read this as if you are at my funeral
And faced with the crowd of mourning strangers
With tears in their eyes,
Hold in your mouth the art of their final memory
Of me.

Read this as though we lie together,
And in the long summer grass I reach across
To hand you this scrap of love from my pocket.

And here are the nine secondary winners!

Donna Hole:
Music and art have always been a part of my writing. I listen to music to set mood, or just as background noise to block out all other distractions. I look at pictures or movie excerpts to set a character personality or scene setting.

JC Martin:
“What is that?”
“A herd of horses racing through the plains.”
“Horses!? They look like a pack of mutant rats.”
“Hey, art is in the eye of the beholder.”
“That can’t be art in anybody’s eyes.”
“Picasso’s work was misunderstood in his time too.”
“Shh…Mrs Dempsey’s coming.”
“Keep working, boys. Adam, I love your horses. Great abstract art.”

Petra:
Her pen
drips ink form the art
of her heart as it spills
its questions into a book
she’s reading hoping
to gain a closer look
at the One who gives all
because He was and is
and is to come always
from the vast canvas
of His wisdom revealing
the passion of His cross–
true justice bleeding grace.

Arlee:
The art of brevity is a misnomer.  The history of art spans a long stretch of time.  And the range of variety within the arts is broad and as infinite as the mind will allow.  How can art and brevity even be used side by side?  How can a windbag like me expect to be brief?  Me?  Sixty words? Hmmph!

Apfel:
Inspiration
I look up at the deep blue sky,
covered in mountains till half,
I look inside the deep dark woods,
A Cow feeding it's Calf.
Then I take a drive out by the river,
What a clear reflection of a bullock cart!
Admit it, if you need inspiration,
Nature is the purest form of art.

Wendy:
It's shy.
My art is shy.
It lurks in the corners of a dusty brain...
Smiling to itself in that sly way.

Sometimes art takes a tumble to the other side
Just to see it's little shy friends.
They visit, compose...
And share those timid and colorful plans.

Then pop! And blurt!
Bursting out of the mind...
Art.

Lisa:
What can I do to help reach this goal?
Will my simple words tip the scales?
I am stepping up and helping out.
Do not want to be why this goal fails.

Without a picture or a prompt
My mind is blank and scrambling
My heart felt wish as words are read
I do not sound like I am rambling

Angela:
 “Keep the light on.”
“Why?”
He’ll never understand. “Because I’m afraid.”
“Afraid? Of what?” His fingers rest on the switch. His eyes narrow.
“Of that.” I point at the canvas on the wall. His art.
“It’s a painting,” he says. “That’s all.”
“No it’s not. It’s evil.”
“Evil?”
“Yes. Evil. Look at the eyes.”

Li:
He slips behind another's eyes, wends his way through exotic mazes of thought, dreams another's dreams, takes strange words into his mouth and expels them, whole yet somehow changed. He skulks about the perimeter, always watching, dissecting;  taking them apart and cobbling them together into angels and monsters which only he can see. He is a voyeur. He loves art.

Did you ever think about seeing lists as art, as poetry, as a piece of writing that can have a greater meaning?
Japanese Sei Shonagon definitely sees that in list. In The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon she uses 164 lists, showing contrahents and expressing whatever she wanted to. For her, as a writer one can include whatever one wants. Good to know!

Titles of her lists include: Things that cannot be compared, Things that lost their power, People who seem to suffer, Things that gain by being painted, Things that loose by being painted...

Now I wrote some on my own:
...

There are only five places in the world, where he less wanted to be than amongst all these screaming bastards on rollercoasters. His assignment was clear, though. Spend the day as casual as possible in there and keep an eye open.

Steven Harrison was 34 years old and lived for his job. He didn’t stop having girlfriends, of course, but being an agent required a lot of dedication. He never before took his girlfriend with him onto an assigned trip; this time he had changed his mind for two reasons: to please Anastasia and to find a cover-up. He didn’t expect it to turn out as an adventurous task.

She was hanging at his shoulder as they were walking down River Drive, next to the Swan Lake. His girlfriend pulled on his arm. “Could you bear with me for just one second, please? I want to ride a swan boat with you.”
“What?” He was watching a black haired man who just came out of a toilet stall, zipping his pants up.
“See, that is exactly what I mean.”

“Honey, you know I’m not here for pleasure. If I wanted to ride a boat with you, then I would take you to the Virgin Islands and not to Disney World in Orlando.” The guy walked to a crossing path and disappeared.

“So you don’t want me here. Why didn’t you take one of your colleagues then?”

“I told you about a hundred times. I thought you might like Disney World, although I honestly can’t see how that could be.”

“Oh, shut up. If Marian hadn’t been called to Turkey for some mysterious reason, then you would have never asked me.”

His lip twitched. “Go on, ride your Swan. I’ll meet you at the Duck’s Donut on the other side.” He pulled his wallet and gave her five dollars.