One Poem by Angela Porter

Written in response to this month’s Special Challenge.

Art or Dying?

But, wiser with years I now see it coming back –
Into shell and skull, limestone or calcium.
Telling the old person falling asleep in a chair
That the young were once too strong.

My thumb seems to run across the surface.
Where the detritus is pastel surrender.
It is almost gruesome, and yet not quite.
Perhaps I moved my eyes quickly with colour.

Imprints of impossible repeats, drags lace.
Did I dare to look up and stare in horror?
I skipped the awful and the real it showed.
Then I notice new things standing, challenging.

Art forwards energy in vigour, the real vanishes.
As a heart once healthy beating, one day is sad.


She wrote this poem from her experience of painting. The picture is textural, and Angela’s creative works (poetry, music and art and craft) include textural works such as her “String Trio” composed in 1996 (British Music Library).

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