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15 October 2013

Art & Poetry

Madness or Genius? The association between bipolar disorder and creativity first appeared in literature in the 1970s, but the idea of a link between “madness” and “genius” is much older, dating back at least to the time ofAristotle. The Ancient Greeks believed that creativity came from the gods, and in particular the Muses, the mythical personifications […]

Madness or Genius?

The association between bipolar disorder and creativity first appeared in literature in the 1970s, but the idea of a link between “madness” and “genius” is much older, dating back at least to the time ofAristotle. The Ancient Greeks believed that creativity came from the gods, and in particular the Muses, the mythical personifications of the arts and sciences, and the nine daughters of Zeus, the king of the gods. The idea of a complete work of art emerging without conscious thought or effort was reinforced by the views of the Romantic era.It has been proposed that there is a particular link between creativity and bipolar disorder, whereas major depressive disorder appears to be significantly more common among playwrights, novelists, biographers, and artists. Psychotic individuals are said to display a capacity to see the world in a novel and original way, literally, to see things that others cannot.

Source: Creativity and mental illness – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia


Artwork


Poetry

Hill Top Road

Paton Blough, 01-26-12

The big red barn, the small ranch house,
The tall hay fields, the little mouse,
We would tap in the spring the maple trees,
The bright orange colors the brisk fall breeze,
The crab apple tree, the wild flowers everywhere,
Its Hill Top Road,  Oh, I long to be there!
The Kedkers, the Daigles, the smiths and the Bloughs,
the rabbits and ducks and several big cows,
The year I think was nineteen eighty two,
There is green green grass with very cool dew,
A jersey to milk, and a horse named Cheeko,
The Conneticut river is where we all like to go,
Rasberries and black berries and crazy horse camp ground,
The boat launch, the diving rock, and the dinner bell sound,
A bobcat, a deer, a moose or a bear,
A grouse and a partridge, a fox in his lair,
The pond filled with polywogs,
Trying hard to catch quick frogs,
Gardner snakes and a big wooly spider,
smashing apples that make great cider,
The garden had carrots, peas, and sweet corn,
The husking, the weeding, the bulls crooked horn,
The frozen winter nights, the long hot summer days,
the sprinkler cooled us off the wood stove would blaze,
Sleding down the driveway in a runner sled,
all the boys slept in the basement in a bunk bed,
The Mino Cottage held all our guests
Grandma Bingham stayed there, it passed the test,
Misty and Ten Ten, then Webster came along,
Walking through the woods while singing a song,
I visited Hill Top Road a few years ago,
It was snowing and the barn was falling down,
my heart felt both happy and blue,
But at for the house it was still painted brown!


Another Grandma Bea

Paton Blough, 04-27-09

At the New Mexico/Arizona Border

The train slowly past, the desert so vast
It’s quiet out hear, with lots of stars
The hobos have homes but they don’t have cars

I climbed up a hill to watch the sun set
I imagined natives and cowboys hear may have met

I dreamed of Grandma 2000 miles away
Soon she will be gone, with her, I no more can play

I picked her a cactus with a spring flower of red
I carefully placed it in my truck bed

The cactus soon died and I lost my home
For 3 yrs. now I’ve been a hobo all alone

Life is always changing someway somehow
The twists and the turns, sometimes good, sometimes foul

Remember to love whom ever you meet
They are probably fighting a battle, their in the heat.

Whether you die young or whether you die old
Live each second pure so in the end a good story will be told.

Paton thinking of experience driving from tucson to TR, SC.


Abstract Poetry…. Is there such a thing?

Paton Blough, 03-14-09

Whatever?

Bistros and flowers, clouds and showers, silver and platinum

Plum Trees and traffic cones, coffee and french fries

Sunday school and dinosaur bones, tractors and trailers

grasses and sailors, wheat and wine, beer and cigarettes

Bibles and books, teachers and crooks, music that soothes

Minds that bruise, sweet tea and ice cream, one car light that beams

Fishing in the sun, living in the dark, living in the light, stars always shine bright

Ford pick-up trucks, custom license plates, shotguns blaze

Flying over the pond, castles that once held love, abandoned children live on

Monsters try to scare, telephone poles crash, paper money is worthless

Gold is worthless too, chocolate taste better than pickles, wooden chairs are hard

Oak splits easy, art is perfect when loved, baby girls love barbies and their mommies

Boys love sticks and rocks, some things mean nothing, some things mean a lot

Steep roofs shed the snow, flat roofs tend to leak,

Holding hands may not mean much to you, sadness makes some people blue

Hamburgers are good, China is far away to those who don’t live there

Sacrifice is usually hard, the top of the ladder is not as great as it seems

Neither is the bottom, apples taste better than pears, green vegetables are good for you

Stress is bad for you. Red or green? No matter this all one big dream.


M&P

Paton Blough, 11-24-08

The Earth mourns as the sun hides its face
The weeds grow and the trees fade
the human heart cries for warmth
a warmth that can only come from nature itself
tree’s bask in it, flowers bloom to it, I am restored to it!
the purest form of nature is pure love
pure love, strong love, powerful love, and everlasting love!
a love as strong as the sun
lets go to BoraBora!


Postal

Paton Blough, 06-01-07

Yesterday I called my doctor
He said just take this pill and you’ll be fine
I laughed inside and thought to myself
He has no clue whats on my mind

I think of things that most do not
the Whitehouse the greenhouse, race cars
red salmon, glaciers, coffee and cigars
am I postal or insane or did God
Just give me a most unusual brain

The truth is that I don’t belong here anymore
Come with me my friend and lets end the bore
We will enjoy the trip to the other side
Your belief will free you like a falcon in glide

We don’t need any drugs for this maiden run
Just hold hands and lets rise like the sun
Do you trust me am I insane? Just let go
And you will lose all the pain

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