Angele Toomey Poetry

I love that feeling of looking up to the clock and seeing that hours have passed while I’ve been fully immersed in something. It could the feeling of being in the flow, where minimum effort is required for maximum satisfaction, or that feeling of wild abandon when the outcome doesn’t matter as long as you’re having fun.

Undoing was inspired by a painting that involved flinging paint at the canvass and using brushes, cloth, my hands, to blend and shape the paint. There was no rhyme or rhythm – just me, the canvas and pots of paint. Definitely a cool way to blow off some steam, release some creativity and possibly have something to show for it.

Undoing

Colour moves across the canvass

In seemingly random patterns.

I have mixed a rainbow and, with my fingertips, am trying to

Separate what is now forever blended.

I feel the imperfections in the fabric – catching on bumps

Running over smooth sections.

Lost in a moment of destructive creativity

The swirls, ripples and clashes

Are singing to me a song

Of stormy harbours and calm open oceans.

I am doing art and art is undoing me.