The Art & Poetry of Mary Coleman

I have decided to call my book All The Birds Are Screaming. My friend who is illustrating is on board with that. It’s from yesterday’s poem and the line really stuck with me. I think it would make a catchy title.

When I get home I am going to start working on anatomy drawings. One a day after I write my morning poem. I’ll begin with hands, go to feet, and work my way through the body. It’s a tangible goal and something kind of comforting to do. I need comforting when it comes to art because there is so much anxiety and perfectionism built up around doing it. Poetry has become my main avenue of expression, art is something I am going to try to do as a side hobby. Something I am going to try to lower my expectations for and hopefully I will eventually free myself from the bane of wanting to be perfect at it if it is no longer my main goal in life.

Here is a poem I enjoyed:

I feel this way about finding poetry. It opened up something inside of me that had been long festering and shut off. My art used to be a place where I could express the deepest parts of my soul, but developing maladaptive perfectionism around it shut that road off and my suffering had no outlet any longer. I was once an artist who dabbled in writing, but am now a poet who dabbles in art. My life has vastly changed course in the past two weeks.

I fly home today. So glad to be going. I love my sister dearly but I hate where she lives. If I lived here I would descend into a gradual madness. Gated communities with militaristic HOAs are not for me.

I would love to say a seagull because they are my favorite bird and have the freedom of the ocean and coastline, but I’m more like a crow. A bit lazy, shy around strangers, I stick to the same territory pretty much always, and I make do with what I have as best I can. When I was younger I had a murder, but like most older crows, I now just have my mate. I socialize with other crows occasionally and have some friends who fly in and out of my life for brief visits, but for the most part it’s just my husband and I. The only thing that a crow is that I am not is loud. Crows feature in my poetry quite often.