Armored carapace
marries this hide to my hundred-year-old body
This union of protection
sallies my ancient form through waters
older than you or I
Brothers and sisters
honor the places your body moves upon
Respect the glory of the four elements
with guardianship as infinite as the heavens
Do not let your watchful eyes wither
like naked flesh in burning sand
I must breathe
You must breathe
Oceans must breathe
Do you understand
I only ask because
it seems many have forgotten
Tag Archives: art
muse trident
long before tears conspired
to pour the four oceans
the ancient Greeks acknowledged
a lone muse could not satiate
a human’s desire
and ten divisible by two
too dull in its perfection
in cerebral court
it was decided
to incite
tridents of meditation
three groups of three
to wage ongoing battle
in homage to originality
perhaps
we humans need to believe
inspiration does not dwell within
and creative stimulation
is something to unleash
outside ourselves
muses
nine
still may be
too few
yellowed horses
inspired by avant-garde artist – Franz Marc’s, gorgeous colored horses, all of them
our blue boys
the mantle has been empty far too long
I’ve been meaning to create another portrait
what else is an empty fireplace wall for?
it seems an eternity has passed
since working with a linen base and liquid pigment
pencil and paper are sometimes sorry replacements
on August 3, I set out my paints
and selected a canvas
large enough for a big dog
yet, not overwhelming
for a little one
our last Shepherd, Chama was a regal type
her stoic beauty typified her grace
I did my best to present these qualities
when I painted her formal portrait in 2002
our current dogs
hmm
Rocky the Shepherd
Mojo the Dachshund
what is it about this dynamic duo
that makes my family laugh often
they are quite goofy
yet, they can be fearless too
as small dogs usually go-
Mojo’s 13 pounds sees 90 in our Pella glass door
and
while a Shepherd cuts an intimidating figure
most times
Rocky acts quite silly
when conceptualizing a portrait
there is but one goal–
doing justice to
the subject(s)
outlook(s) on life
natural as the air they breath
in the case of Rocky and Mojo
I’d say joy
and since purple was not quite right
I chose the colors of a
blissful sky, a wistful ocean,
an icy fruit-sickle on a steamy day
our blue boys…
Blue Boys, acrylic – 3′ x 2 1/2′
finished a few days ago, in between doing loads of laundry – ah, if only they could help with the chores, now that would be something 😉
Chama (Chama the Shepherd looking at her portrait), oils – 2′ x 1 1/2′
painted in 2002 (sorry for poor photo quality)
giving
yanking a thread from the soul
that’s what it is
one filament at a time
you unravel
note by note
composing
soundless symphonies
for the outside world
dreaming
word by word
form by form
every infinite limb
in the universe
becomes rapt
in your pursuits
then
one day
there’s nothing left to give
only
what you’ve made
and your efforts
are either remembered
or forgotten
crazy blue bird, created a few weeks ago with Tombow markers and Prisma pencils, while in a feathery mood 😉
maternal nightmares
little witch babies and tormenting black skies
gusting wind
long dark dresses swinging like death bells
a frail newborn with antlers growing
crying out as it tries to lift its weak neck
ocean-deep in salted sweat
those early months
panicking…
a pink infant
without bony deciduous growth
or skull-sunken cheeks
seventeen Halloween moons gone by since,
those first seconds
one more fall harvest
until her
perfect little face departs
dreaming…
scary baby mask, mixed media rendered a few weeks back…
the first time I was pregnant: during the first trimester, I had many bizarre dreams–some were nightmarish, others surreal like Dali paintings…my oldest is now 17 and college planning is on, lots of positive dreaming 🙂
sippin’ shit from the satellite saucer
dude won
sippin’ shit from the satellite saucer
that’s brain milk in there
did you know?
swallow hard and wait for the
Mensa explosion
a thousand stations
to blow your mind out your ears
snort reality
heady up
here comes the gong show
whoa, get your damn greasy stumps off my pristine screen
dude too
looks soreal
dude won
that’s surreal, jack
hey, step back from the ultra hd
and hands off her ass
you’re crapping up my visual
dude too
freakin’ sharp ass glass
realist trip I ever fell over
‘n I slept in a needle
space powder in my orfeces
oh wait, shit
orifecal holes
man, her ass is sublimb-ded
dude won
you’re pot ROASTED, jack
SUBLIME ass and yes, it is
now repeat after me, “ORIFICE”
hey, get your damn hands
off my ultra hd
I already wiped your last scum off there
dude too
shit man
yer satellite saucer
runnin’ outta menses milk
you got one of them cage-free cows
back there in the yard
maybe hangin’ out in them cannibal plants
dude won
you must be allergic to dairy, jack
that’s cannabis
you fuckin’ idiot!
cows brought to graze in 2008, find the little green bull…
Experimentally expressing 😉
He Doesn’t Care, poem published in the Avocet
he doesn’t care
he doesn’t care about crowns
he doesn’t know he is a king
his only kingdom is survival
we attached a silly moniker
for his magnificence
like we determine specie classification
all listed below us
we name each
for the natural beauty, grace and strength
we covet
we only become great with great effort
not like them
who fly, leap, run, swim
in a way that makes us
desire trophies
we manufacture superiority
how we love roaring
we are the rulers of this earthly kingdom
you are only, King of the Jungle
because that’s what we named you…
drawn with prisma pencils a few years back
no mint breeze in the rain
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 😉 )
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
anntogether 