The twigs snap and the leaves crackle beneath me
This is where I recharge and reboot
I don’t always wish to be there
but it’s where I end up
Beneath the breathing branches
and budding leaves
Don’t stop here keep reading…
farm land churned
and over cropped
Fruits of labor plucked year to year
I have no regrets
I’ve fed and nurtured
new life I’ve cradled vulnerable
seedlings n ot yet ready for the rays
of light that
brighten and burn
Tucked away silent inside
w arm dark loved
A symbolic womb with a pulse
p ulse pulse
Gold paint was left unopened beneath the microwave
Butter knife around the edges to release the magic
What shall I paint?
To My dismay the purple roses I planted for my grandmother
have turned pink
do they no longer honor her
Will they bloom again this spring?
Passed the roses are dandelions
passed the dandelions are dead leaves
left over from fall.
I tip the bucket and drizzle them gold again
golden leaves in the spring
the ones off to the side where no one is supposed to look
I painted them.
And they glistened in this hidden place
an exchange for boredom
This piece was inspired by
Sculpture Grounds located in Old Lyme Connecticut.
Branches slap her skin
She runs through the place
Like it’s her own
She’s lost but she just keeps going
Webs tickle her nose
And a thousand baby spiders crawl under her clothes
She’s a forest baby This is her home
Been working on editing my collection of poetry and figuring out the best way to promote and sell it. Very exciting and very stressful. Definitely learning a lot. yay!
I admire his persistence
and oh, how his howling soothes
like the thumping inside her womb
those vibrating drums birthed from her mouth
I admire his persistence
how her beats stretch across his howl
The night twinkles
bare, bare, bare, with dull blood
Dance in her womb, crawl on your knees, eyes shut
A mighty hand guides you to the unknown
It’s a calico
and stalks our yard
with spiritual confidence
Sometimes I lift the curtain
to get a better view
we eye each other
And it’s quite entertaining
Especially when I should be writing
When it tires of our connection
It disappears behind the bush that divides us.
Tomorrow we may do the same thing
I’m not always looking for it
and it’s not always looking for me
In Asian art, jade is considered to be the most powerful and mystical material. Particularly in China, jade is associated with imperial authority, heaven and immortality. The Chinese have a saying: ‘One can put a price on gold, but Jade is priceless.’ Some of the finest pieces of jade out price diamonds and are desired all over the world.
Book “The Arts Of Asia Materials Techniques Styles,” Meher McArthur
While I sleep, the sea creeps into my bed
I get sea sick and toss and turn begging for land
And hot water with lemon
I grasp my sheets, my clothes, the bed
but the water has no sympathy
Finally, with no hope left
I reach for hin and shipwreck
on an island somewhere…
If one day I could be translucent that wouldn’t change a thing.
If one day I gained all the knowledge the entire world possessed it wouldn’t change a thing.
If I work to grow everyday I will have changed everything I have in my power to change.
I will have changed a thing.
“The sense of mystery is a matter of being all the time amid the equivocal, in double and triple aspects, and hints of aspects (images within images), forms which are coming to birth, or which will come to birth according to the state of mind of the observer.”
-Odilon Redon, Notes to Himself
Odilon Redon The Grinning Spider 1881 via Galleryintell.com
The place we go to find ourselves is often the place we fear the most. We procrastinate and put that place where we dwell on hold for when life gets easier and when things feel more comfortable. The only thing is we as humans hide pieces ourselves in the most uncomfortable places.