Poetry, notes, and drawings by William Michaelian
Look at him. He just sits there all day, writing and drawing. What good is keeping him in a cell if he doesn’t even know he’s a prisoner?
No disabilities, walls or bars can stop the mind traveler. One can write, draw, paint or dream about places that only they can see in their mind's eye. Many of my paintings, stories and poems are of places that I dreamed-up in my heart and soul...
Are we not each prisoners in ourselves? I wonder on this. I see my daughter fall victim to a set of characteristics that is her. Me, too, daily. My exhusband, as well, and so I try to nurture empathy for him. My mother, my step-father, my lover. We are each allowed the spectrum of experiences prompted from how we are assembled, how our minds are constructed, just how we are apt to react/respond, and yet, too, we fall victim to our own kinked electricty, our natural energy movement along the lines that comprise the self. Inside of ourselves we are caught. It is the lucky few who have the power to create that are able to be released. But then I find flaw with the lucky few, as we all have the power to create, sometimes through art, sometimes through laughter, sometimes through fishing or quiet or walking, countless outlets. So perhaps it is just the lucky few who realize their times of creation as freedom. The others remain, well, perhaps just feeling jailed.)You've got me thinking this morning, William. Hope I made some sense.xoerin
If he do not know, he must be happy! If he's a prisoner, he would feel sorry I mean...
Jan, Erin, and Rudhi, you’ve each written revealing mini-essays, and I thank you for that.Let my answer to you be this wonderful piece by Erin: some nothing, and some more nothing.
Thoughtful, and liberating.
Thank you, Rosaria. As you said in your comment following Erin’s entry, “...we share and we wonder.”
william, i hang my head. you need not do these things. do you know how you touch us? do you know how you are so gentle with us? you guide us, or at least, you send us on our ways. i laugh. i get hives at the word essay and then i laugh again. i don't have any idea whatsoever an essay is. never did, even while i studied. ha!thanks to you, dear man.xoerin
Bah, hold up your head. It was all I could do to not link to all three of the entries you posted today. All you say goes both ways. None of us owns what we feel or what we know. What counts is that we are inspired and pass it on.
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