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#artisan
Silken Tongue Poets eschew the Pedantic Masters of Imagination Create Fantastic Poets of Masterly Craft and Imagery Like Don Bouchard, Joe Cole and Me Wolf spirit aka quinfinn also added in These poets and More, will Proclaim That Mastery of Imagination Can Reign Tales will be told, of times of Old Poets will take you to Magical Places Among the treasures you will find Gold Poetesses will spin tales of Love and Woe And you might even meet a UFO Poets will Stumble From Irish Pubs For Deeds of Valantry Knights be Dubbed Or Stars May Fall from the Universe The Craft and Mastery will be diverse So this is your invitation to our World of Creation By Artisans of the Craft and the Masters of Imagination, A  Collection for the Masters of Imagination, The True Craftsmen of the Arts. Come see where Imagination Shines...Shamus
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Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 4:58 AM UTC
SilkenTongue Poets
Picture portraits in a small photo, generations on a great hall's walls. Prominent people of the past, lives emptied out in a room now empty, but still present in its patinated patterns. Like pretend gods they covet their ill-gotten goods, while the room fills with artisan phantoms, championing their creative crafts, charming the furnishings they fashioned. Their lives survive only in their works, some unattributed, unfamed but unshamed.
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Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
A Photo of Charlecote Great Hall
Steinbeck’s restless ghost whispers to me as I tiptoe along a stone seawall. He steers me away from the bay back to the old sandstone churches built by native hands, back to music festivals and artisan fairs full of mild, white cheeses and would-be novelists arguing about Henry Miller’s tropics. But I’ve grown tired of his whispering and no longer wish to dream of these things. I would rather descend into a watery haven. I will wave goodbye to John and I will run down sandy paths that lead to the sea. I wade into the depths and sink into a canyon where kelp shivers in underwater breezes, and the only stars I see will be suction-cupped to the rocks below.
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Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 9:02 PM UTC
dreams of Monterey
_'Actually, my friend in Taranaki makes the stars. I combine them with my own elements and string them into garlands,' wrote Makery. There was an element of apology about her words. As if she’d been rumbled. As if someone had confirmed the voice of self-doubt that whispered in her ear, 'Who do you think you are, calling yourself an artisan?' Stringing things together is applied artistry - whether it be words, Scandi-style stars, or fairytale mushrooms threaded on candy coloured twine. We are all hunter-gatherers who construct our creations from discovered elements. Some transmute received knowledge into constructed knowledge. Others beachcomb lexica for found syncretic treasures. All aspire to contribute to the infinite compendium of human self-expression, to create something which says, 'This is who I am.' With the silent addendum, 'I hope you like it.'_
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May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 2:07 AM UTC
The Hilltop Makery