seven am returning from a school drop two older gals walking, striding, smiling sun yea, it’s shining not as brightly as these two powder-fresh sprites their white Sketchers impossibly polished like their well-seasoned eyes almost see facial twinkling from my car I’ve lowered speed
crawling my Ford tires
slow the rushing axles beaming at these living cherubs
while I sing along with Sirius ’70’s wouldn’t you know you sexy thing starts playing
too freakin’ perfect exuberant I’ve grown while observing these fine ladies
damn, still buckled in
I wanna get out and dance
stride step with these great smiling ladies I picture them shakin’ moving their tried and true derriéres like they were 25
and in their minds, they still are
easy to deduce by their meandering glitter trail I bet these 2 beauties were live wires the kind that stretched and sprang back knocking all them young lads for a loop
and a tongue tie with their bedazzling smiles and fine fighting features you go girls!
you sexy things!
even more perfect ’cause I love hot chocolate especially after wine;)
this is for the man who raises his children well despite the fears hidden beneath his cape this is for the man who teaches young hearts to embrace courage enough to face their own fears this is for the man who despite his wounds and scars battles ever onward leading always by example even when his mind and body are exhausted he teaches his children it is not by the flesh– fingers, arms, legs but by the heart and mind we are all connected this is for the man whose stubble their supple face skin winces at when they goodnight kiss his solid chin
It has been said of the song, Wildfire, it arose from the artist’s subconscious
–a Native American tale about a ghost horse
mythical and sweet oh, imagine a golden Palomino mare carrying sunlight upon her hide how she would warm your aching body
settle your bones ferry you to another place distant from worry
away from strife all you hear rhythmic patter of spiriting hooves winged forelocks lemon-white mane wrapping your bare skin keeping you secure she gallops across the planet
without grazing earth your stomach lifts your heart steadies peace she finds for you never the same place
but if you should call her twice if you should summon Wildfire to guide you away she may just bring you
back home again
sketched on the way to New Hampshire last week, after listening to Michael Martin Murphy sing his Wildfire
I want to again thank those of you who sometimes read my verse. I’ve been amping up the language or at least trying to. I’m not always comfortable pushing the pub button with some of these posts–last night’s is a good example. I challenge myself to step out of my comfort zone. I hope by doing this, I’ll discover other directions to pursue. I do admit it is fun dreaming up saucy voices–though these ‘characters’ make me the saddest after they’ve been fleshed out. With each piece I try to get away from who I am and write as if I’m someone else. Sometimes these ‘personalities’ beg the question-okay, AnnMarie–what’s the next move. I’m not always sure. It is this uncertainty that pushes me onward.
Thank you, again.
I’ve called on Wildfire more than once:)
the sky showers down in shimmering rivulets cleansing the earth of leftovers something we planet guardians don’t do well cloud masses end load the cycle pouring so hard sometimes dearest pets have been given over to frame the scene the water is exquisite in its clean smell vertical rivers stream to feed the parched those below drink the life giving stuff and absorb the mist beyond illusion or imagery of form to paint this memory it is light itself
breath from heaven yet here I am, older fancied up in a lace-lined number for celebrating heels, so I stand fake slim at six feet tall makeup applied hoping I might fool some years away and all I can say about this gorgeous rain is CRAP my makeup is gonna run MM is a 2′ tall print from a litho plate I painstakingly etched in college
I used this particular art thinking how we can sometimes be
a bit outside-centric rather than inside-evolved (I’m ashamed to admit I’m guilty of this from time to time)
MM’s photo reference from the talented photographer Philippe Halsman (1906-1973)