many have written about rain
how the rain makes you lonely
endless drops echoing in an empty chest
the cold of them creeping up your shirt
shudders into the back bulge
the obvious dullness of the sky
over-burdened clouds unable to ease the mind
wind maybe, no breeze
delicate mint leaves collapse
they don’t know the end of it
never do
endless repetitive pings on pavement
no playing on the drooping lawn
 sucking mulch beds
engorged suburban septic sours
the smell can be bad
so the rain
it is wet
it is sad
it is dark
for a big-eyed kid waiting for the storm to pass
why this face? I’ve no idea…more crayon playing and yes, it was raining.
For Fawn – may rain come your CA way
(there is happy rain, I was in a melodrama moment-perhaps I shouldn’t write while drinking red wine 😉 )
Category Archives: Can’t put Anywhere Else
Homage to Doctor Moreau
“The crying sounded even louder…. It was as if all the pain in the world had found a voice.”
“For everyone the want is bad. Some want to go tearing with teeth and hands into the roots of things, snuffing into the earth.”
“An animal may be ferocious and cunning enough, but it takes a real man to tell a lie.”
Quotes from the transformative pen of H.G. Wells, The Island of Doctor Moreau
my creature gal created about 3 weeks ago with no hard-core animalistic intent
I. Doe and Deer II.The Littlest Dear
I. Doe and Deer
toward the back end where the trees grew thick
and adjoining woods within range
she moseyed about the lawn
a pair of leggy fawns nearby
one did not roam far
the other
well, the other
scampered, hopped, sprinted, leaped
jumped over a hedgerow and disappeared
my mind yelled, get back over here!
I held my breath
moments ticked by
measured by my desk timer shaped like an egg
there to ensure I vacate my studio every so often
over those bushes with a freewheeling bound
she pranced back into view
so confident
her sister remained clinging to mama
with just blades of grass between
all the while
the doe continued steadily munching
taking no notice of the staying
or the leaping
she was a constant
and they were not
at least
not for a long time, yet…
II. The Littlest Dear
there was a young deer
though there were many others
none were like this one
her back was not quite right
things that were supposed to be inside
were outside
she was dying
life was pooling quickly in those somber, black eyes
her last place of rest was against the cold cement wall
of my home’s foundation
I sat ministering her
misting her cracked muzzle
hoping to keep ignorant flies at bay
I rubbed the velvet between her ears, still so very soft
I sang songs, my words were choked garble
I wondered if she’d had a good life
I whispered goodbye
and asked anyone listening
to please take care
of this little dear
art I. while in my studio thinking about an idea, I had the good fortune of a doe and her 2 young ones crossing my backyard, so very enchanting (as long as the vegetable garden gate is closed) – I went a little sappy and put a little smile on the frolicking fawn 🙂
art II. previously published during Xmas
both stories here are true…I think about that littlest ”dear’ more often than I probably should
natural deselection
earth time past
folds before man laid claim
magnificent giants roamed
this planet’s hide
legged, tentacled, devoid of sense
spawning stuff of nightmares
breathing light of dreams
ambiguous
specific
cloaked
creatures of fantasy
bestowed as masterpieces
sharply enameled
horn heralded
club tailed
extraordinary strength
deselected
castrated by nature
on a sunless whim
t’rex duel created long ago while learning Adobe Illustrator, previously published
Interview With Miss A (Vampire)
Another school year is coming to a close. Another year of substitute teaching done and over. Before the year completely ends, I’d like to share an old post written last year when some fifth grade boys were concerned that their substitute teacher was a vampire…
Interview With Miss A (Vampire)
Having blood-sucking on the brain (and not because of the Twilight saga–though I’ll admit I enjoyed), I searched my studio folders for Him. I scoured my old Prentice Hall files. When I was a new Mac user learning Illustrator, I drew everything employed old-fashioned hand-eye coordination with a mouse and a prayer.
That year I’d also read, Interview With The Vampire, by the immortal’s mortal, Anne Rice. Her words were composed of cold flesh. Blood flowed between the rivers of white on her pages. I hated Ms. Rice. I was in awe of Ms. Rice. This ‘Interview’ creeped me out like no other book… Everywhere I traveled, Lestat stalked me with his mesmerizing lost eyes, black sinewy veins and pale moon skin.
He was one of my first ventures into computer portraiture. I had no choice but to create Him. He wouldn’t leave my mind. He was a tormenting fellow. He’d bite me nightly and I suffer daily for it. He was the awesome Vampire Lestat. Once I created Him, He no longer haunted my dreams.
I was recently subbing in a fifth grade class. At lunchtime, I noticed a handful of lads with perplexed expressions staring at me. I approached the group to make sure everything was okay. One boy–the ring leader–studied me a moment before asking, “Miss A, are you a vampire?”
Before I could respond he continued, “Why do you have such sharp black eyebrows, long black hair and pointy teeth?” (my incisors are a tad sharp-looking).
I jokingly responded, “YES!” But, then quickly clarified, “Just kidding,” when they started wrapping napkins around their jugulars. The last thing I needed was for a child to go home and say, “my sub was a vampire.”
Later, I contemplated what the fifth grader had asked me. I thought about the boys’ nervous expressions–and I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or insulted.
Tidy Bowl Man
I have a sinking sense sometimes
the cork in my dinghy will pop out
while getting sucked down into a watery vortex –
a horrifying image…
Do you know what happened to the
Tidy Bowl Man?
I’ll tell you if you don’t know or can’t remember –
his career ended up in the crapper.
I don’t want to end up
in the crapper
wearing a white sea-captain suit.
I don’t want to spiral helplessly down, down, downward,
while desperately crying out,
“…it works so you don’t have toooooooooo–”
I vow to always work. I promise to never be lazy.
And I’ll always keep a plunger nearby, in case I hear the Tidy Bowl Man’s plea 😉
LoBoat Illustration created a few months ago and previously published.
Fellow blogger and friend, Deb of C-Dog & Company and I often discuss the merits of keeping our respective creative dinghies afloat 🙂 One must keep their sense of humor when discussing dinghies, corks and creativity 😉
……………………………………………….the tunnel
want it bad?
it’s deep down
you might reach it
crawling on hands and knees
’til they bleed
stumble through the deafening black
clawing and scraping at the tight walls
fingernails ripping off
the tunnel
doesn’t use up life
it just takes time
yours
a beastly eternity
if you make it all the way
shield your eyes
get back on your feet
the light is blinding
but fragrantly warm
now suck in that lucid sky
there’s not much time
the next shadowless passage
is just over
the horizon
quickie sketch, was going to do a whole tunnel concept – truth be told – housecleaning day – damn 😉
long-winded happiness
so many struggling
wanting more than ‘millimoments’ of euphoria
wondering where to find this fickle contentment
happiness
a promised aftereffect of the human condition
what if
we’re not supposed to be searching
what if
cheerful reflection is too deep in the wishing well
perhaps earth isn’t designed for constant contentment
wouldn’t sunup be iridescent blue
stars illuminate pathways to lovers
tides even-flow with the heavens
maybe
happiness is more like the wind
unpredictable
rustling leaves and racing clouds
never settling
what if
we took solace in these haphazard thermals
where seeds still take root
winged beasts soar
and cool air displaces sweating flesh
let’s not search for happiness
let’s take comfort in its randomness
knowing we’ll all eventually be found
I’ve published this little gal a few times, she keeps wanting to be seen…
against a thick crimson sky
this day is not ours to decide
it is done
some had no choice
sacrifices made
youthful years in hell
bodies and minds disabled
parentless children
forever missing
white markers
against a thick crimson sky
we commemorate those
living daily nightmares
eternal memories stowed
in footlockers
those of us 
untouched by blood
this day stand beside
those who act(ed) honorably
who often return(ed) alone
these dutiful hearts
must never
sense anything
but respect
compassion
evermore…
my father-in-law while stationed in Germany
below, enjoying his US return
with his beautiful girl who was to become my mother-in-law
below that photo, one from 1919 LeMans, France
my father-in-law’s father #95
sailing on terra firma
sadness
suspended by the cool sea
blue on blue
restorative
warm earth anchors
soil sanded tones
floating
directionless
ebb and flow
hope
believe
you can sail
on terra firma
Seabiscuit Shell
delicate daughter as a wayward mermaid – one of my favorite photos
seabiscuit shell created a few months ago after staring at my Breyer’s horse collection that shares my studio (yes, I keep plastic horses – in my defense – they are very pretty)
Maybe a Triple Crown…
anntogether 