Tell us about your symptoms and treatment experience. Take our survey here.

caret icon Back to all discussions

Art + Cancer

Art is a healing and powerful way to express ourselves. Are you an artist, or are you inspired by art? This is a place for people who have been affected by prostate cancer to share art and creative expressions with the community.

  1. Poetry is my strongest form of artistic expression. I've been writing poetry for over 50 years. Here's a poem I wrote a couple of years ago that reflects both yearning and grateful acceptance of what's right in front of me.

    What I Want

    What I want is sacred ritual,
    chanting, fire, strong tobacco,
    animal spirits on the edge of darkness,
    dancing until I collapse in ecstasy,
    boundaries disappearing like morning mist,
    thoughts scattered like windblown seeds,
    consciousness replaced
    by numinous awe and wonder.

    What I get is a slow walk,
    in bright sunshine under blue skies,
    up a steep hill with good friends
    on a late winter trail that cuts through
    scrub oak, sage, manzanita, sudden meadows
    flush with pink and purple shooting stars,
    tufted orange poppies, rush-rose,
    delicate chocolate lilies, an endless vista
    of coastal ridges receding in all directions
    like pebbled ripples in a quiet pond,
    a mountaintop communion of strawberries,
    apples, laughter and grateful talk.

    What I want will have to wait.
    What I get will more than do.

    1. Will ... It is easy to see you have a gift - thank you for inviting all of us into your world and allowing each of us to share your vision ... Dennis(ProstateCancer.net Team)

      1. Daily walks with my dog are part of my exercise and putting life in perspective routine. Here's a poem I wrote about a recent walk with Kona.

        Here Comes the Sun

        Leaving the house to walk Kona this morning,
        I was surprised to see nearly clear skies waiting
        for the sun to rise over the eastern ridge.
        Just a few wispy clouds lazily floating
        between the hillside and my vision,
        soon to be warmed away by the day’s
        gathering heat.

        This year, the marine layer, June gloom,
        lasted all the way through July. I had
        grown accustomed to grayness,
        the invisible particles of water
        that would dampen my sweater,
        refresh my face on our early walks,
        nurture that soft melancholy
        that feels so familiar and welcome at times.

        But enough is enough. Let my mood match
        the promise of sunny mornings,
        the certain knowledge that nothing lasts forever,
        that even hard times, mirrored by gray skies,
        will dissipate like the morning mist.
        Here comes the sun.

        Please read our rules before posting.