this piece was painted, let’s see if my memory is working, about twenty years ago…
do not harm him
my crayon box
hmm, this might be sixth grade-don’t miss the snap tie and blue knee socks
awhile back I wrote about my childhood crayon thievery – if you’d like to read just tap the magic red here 😊
my monsters
I gotta do it – push a little – nudge a bit – dream the thing flies off the digital shelf so I can tell my kiddies – ‘hey guys, look what mom has got goin’ on!’
I haven’t been doing enough promo for the ebook version of this near-and-dear-to-my-heart book
The ebook version has a new poem and the illustrations are in glorious color – I’ve swapped drawings for paintings for several pieces too
So without further ado and $2.99😄my, love of the monster
I’m hoping you love monsters too, ’cause if you don’t, you’re missing a piece of yourself❤
I’ve linked to the biggest monster of ’em all – AMAZON (the prime hairs on your neck should be up😉)
eyes of magma
new poem, Eyes of Magma, published at HerStory – a purpose-driven creative venue for the unified female voice – love this blog
Eyes of Magma
legs thinner than sipping straws
supporting a body too frail for words
strength and shine
will settle in those eyes of magma
super heated by flecks of brilliance
lit from behind
unknown to the world
one day
she will become a champion of peace
she is on her way now
seek her out in every young woman
I am vain
This piece inspired by my face, currently a disaster of stress rash. Apparently, holding back, in an attempt to be monstrously strong, isn’t good for you. I can now use my face like a 70’s mood ring. Never believed I was vain, but lately I’m hiding in the shadows along with my creatures.
a long time in the making
After experiencing several monster-sized issues, my eBook is now available. Truth be told, post-problems it was ready in late January, but at the time, I had not the heart to promote it. So without further ado – some new illustrations and a new poem too – love of the monster – is yours for the downloading (oh and a tiny $2.99)
❤thank you
Apathetic Wrinkling – poem published
Apathetic Wrinkling
There are parts that work well rolling on the floor. Leave me be. I will find my footing. Unlike her. Don’t you hear the screaming. The window, open like the door but less welcoming. Endless sobs hitting the birds outside. What is she crying about this time?
Wrinkles.
How she just can’t do it anymore.
Hell, who can?
There are no places to hide when you know all the rooms in your home. I wonder if she’s dying while standing on her feet. My ears are chained to this self-inflicted malaise. Perhaps the plasma screen will extend its curving armature and whisper encouragement as she continues moaning. Wrinkles. Too many.
Forgotten in the dryer, shirts crinkled like a baby’s ass.
Cotton shits wrinkles.
I should be the one crying.
When it rains…
Well my friends –
when it rains it does pour
as some of you know, my dad passed away this November, then we had to place my live-in mother-in-law into a nursing facility
on Sunday my beautiful energetic mom suffered a large stroke brought on by pneumonia complications – she’s an amazing woman and I’ve no doubt she’ll make a full recovery after intense rehab – I’m doing my best to keep up with things, but I won’t be doing much creatively for now
please accept my apologies if I don’t get to your comments – which I always appreciate – and I wish you wonderful creative and healthy months ahead – AnnMarie
I Will Die at the Right Time
I Will Die at the Right Time
At this rate, there will be nothing left for my children. Too much
falling outside the body. A two-headed llama with no head
belonging to me.
all to them
unintentionally by them
Losing ability to see value by which aging matters. Watching
bone-slow deterioration. Using my frame to anchor relations.
Trying to deduce life’s meaning–endgame research.
Sowing seeds of pain in backward gardens planted with wrinkling flesh,
falling from porous skeletons.
suppleness
fire, grace, motion, lightning
gone
Stolen–
without remorse from each sunrise.
The silver-edge moon no longer sensual,
goading their last warm breaths.
Not doing this to my flesh and blood.
I will die at the right time.
acrylic painting done a few years ago
anntogether 