One of my Word Play students, a man in his 80s, wrote a poem in class off a prompt I gave. He read it, and the other students in the group were wowed. He returned the next week with a revised version, asking the class for help refining it. He also brought a drawing his wife had done. Slowly, the two merged into a single piece.
Collaboration between Ron Hennies, poet, and his wife Lea Hennies, artist
The story of the drawing is poignant. I’ve asked Ron to explain it to you:
“My wife, Lea, is losing her sight. We both know and love this little tree from our walks. Because of vision problems we were forced to scramble down a steep slope so that she could feel the trunk, and its many turns. She asked to collaborate with me on this small piece. This is the result.”
I imagine Lea reading and re-reading this poem with her drawing next to it while she still has her eyesight, intimately connecting the two by relationship and imbuing the words with rich imagistic qualities of memory that this tree will be seen living inside her when her sight is gone and she listens to Ron read his poem to her.
Of course there are so many layers of meaning in the poem, but the best part of the piece is the artistic collaboration which only emphasizes years of intertwined lives.
Thanks to all for sharing.
I love this collaboration! I wish there was more opportunity for collaboration in the arts: between poets and visual artists and poets and musicians, among the many possible couplings. When collaboration is organic, as in this case, each creativity profoundly enhances the other–and the whole.
This may be presumptuous of me, but a single line in “Familiarity” bothers me. It is “with forces you do not understand”. I wonder if the poet considered changing this line to “with forces I do not understand” or “with forces we do not understand”. Assuming an entity of another species, i.e. the tree, understands or doesn’t, in our sense of what that means, seems presumptuous to me. It presumes we can have some idea of what understanding is for a being so different from ourselves.
I hope I am not being impertinent by throwing this idea out there. In general I like the poem very much–and also the beautiful drawing.
It seems to me that Margaret Randall is onto something. In the future I will change the line to “forces ‘we’ do not understand.” I very much appreciate her point. Thank you Margaret. Ron H.
Ron, Your poem and your wife’s art touched my heart in such a way that I had to write a poem to both of you. Kayce
In Gratitude
fo Ron & Lea
So much more than a poem and a work of art
….a love story
between a couple and a tree
a man and a woman
a tree and a man
a woman and a tree.
So much more
unseen
underground
roots holding steady
reaching deep
like the couple
holding
steadfast
each other’s hand
sending out their own
roots
touching peoples’
lives and this
solitary tree.
Kayce Verde
Thank you, Kaycee Verde, for your poetic response. We are going to have it read at our 60th wedding anniversary. You are kind. Ron & Lea
Ron and Lea, I would be honored. Lately I find myself writing if something touches my heart. And you and Lea certainly did…and of course the tree.
It took four souls to blend that fine work of art. Ron’s words; Lea’s sketch; my scanning both into a PC after cutting, pasting and editing, all of which was followed by Birgitta’s final artistic adjustment.
PROUD.
Love, Elizabeth
This is so wonderful, I remember you telling me of your Irish grandmother whose back was bent from picking potatoes–
I am grateful that you shared this poem and artwork! Lea and you are a great example of marriage!
Beautiful