The Art Of Charles Griffith
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Charles Griffith first began writing poetry in high school, thanks to the encouragement of a supportive teacher. , He returned to serious writing in recent years, and had considerable luck in getting his work published in a number of publications. His work in the visual arts has given him a unique insight into the importance of imagery in the written word, and a deep appreciation of the design principles that underlie every successful work of art. His subject matter has included social commentary, personal experiences, the natural world and stream-of-consciousness, written in both traditional and modern styles.
Poetry also helped his visual art: "Studying and writing poetry helped me to gain a different perspective into the creative process, and helped me to become more focused on the subject matter and social issues that really matter to me. I have tried to transfer these insights into my painting and drawing, and I think my artwork is now more 'honest' and personal as a result."
In 2002 the poem "The Wanderers" appeared in Aalst Magazine (Tartan Ink Press, Doncaster England) and a collection of his work was published in the 2002 Shadow Poetry anthology "Before The Last Shadow Fades", available now at $20.95 through Shadow Poetry, Amazon.com, Buy Books On The Web and Barnes & Noble. Charles has also had numerous poems published in Erete's Bloom, based in Tallahassee Florida, and has had several poems published in the "Voyages" anthology and The Taj Mahal Review, both published by Cyberwit (Allahabad, India). He has also been a regular contributor to AllPoetry.com, the Internet's premier poetry site.
The publication of the Shadow Poetry anthology was marked by an interview with Charles Griffith featured in the December 11, 2002 issue of the Monroe Enquirer-Journal newspaper (published in Monroe, North Carolina). The reporter was Troy Penny.
Enjoy The Poetry Of Charles Griffith!
"Poetry, like any art form, should take the ordinary scenes and experiences of our lives, even our fantasies, and help us see past the surface, into the feelings, needs, sensations and dreams that we all possess".
Charles Griffith, from "Before The Last Shadow Fades".
A ruined outpost
in a gothic wood,
to this we march single-file;
a resting place for weary feet,
a perfect place to sit and eat
at the end of a roman mile.
A squad of
soldiers, to which I belong,
sits upon the old stones to rest;
in the shadow of Caesar's legions,
in the midst of this alien region
in which we are only guests.
Rifles stacked,
shining in the sun,
our helmets off and pistol belts undone;
I think of battles lost and battles won;
the harrowing deaths of brave men,
the barbarian slaughter and the battle's din.
But now
cigarettes and coffee go round
as someone jokes about a whore;
perhaps a centurion said the same thing
in this same spot, one day in the spring
two thousand years before.
But my friends
can't see from where they lie
on this sunny afternoon in July
that the ghosts of the legions watch over us;
they still stand guard
with a gaze so hard
and a vigilance that is ever righteous.
And as I sit
upon this noble ground
my thoughts continue to stray;
how many men more
on their way to unknown wars
have yet to pass this way?
But now it's
time to move out
and put away these thoughts so noble and good:
time to end our stay,
time to march away
from this ruined outpost in a gothic wood.
The sound of a
train,
riding the autumn air through an open window
on a still southern night.
The call of a waiting world,
the comfort of childhood dreams
and old songs playing on an old radio.
Beside an old
headstone, beneath a fallen branch,
Nature hides it's precious fortune:
foliage, luscious and green, forcing it's way to the light
past moldy acorns and ragged weeds;
wild, tangled growth emerging from cool shadow
on an emerald evening.
In the growing embrace of a southern twilight,
Spring whispers it's way into the world.
In the corner of
an old cemetery,
unseen and forgotten by all.
secular prophets
and
dreary babblers of consumer delight
magazine entreaties to a
better life among
the clouds
where it all begins anew
each and every day
have you followed the
patriotic blood-laws
did you fill in your
paint-by-the-numbers life
today in your
typical household
do you want to see it clearly
or do you want to roll your hands
in the dusty mound of convention
only in candy-striped pillows of
comfort and beautiful lies
do you find your way
why not breathe
the air for a change
taste the cool water like
a newborn
and in your limitless sense of
wild purest virtue
see the grass like never before
the curve of a child's mouth
and the dew on the doorstep
then tell me
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