the ocean’s power

Posted on May 2, 2015 by AM Roselli

twenty lifetimes of burden for one to bear
is unjust
life asks so much of some
while requesting so little of others
the waves you cherish
float sorrow along
when you’re ready to let go
let the bad memories sink
to a place where they can no longer drown your thoughts
or consume your heart
perhaps there will come a time
where the waters won’t be so tumultuous
peace will ripple
and sailing on a cool breeze
through silent ocean blue
an aqua-eyed mermaid
with delicate feet
and hair spun of flaxen gold
will find you
welcome her with open arms
allow yourself
happiness
and the power of
the magical ocean
find the peace you seek

dolphin created with markers, a touch of acrylic and some ‘ocean’ water 😉 for an upcoming project

is the end something we see

Posted on March 17, 2015 by AM Roselli

is the end something we see
something we fall into
like a dreamless night
do we fight the conclusion
papering the wall with shadows
is parting a just expense
our breaths used
some squandered
or salvaged for scraps
is the end something we see
hearing transient star light
blinding white silences
preemptive acceptance
of unseen faith
ushering ever onward
back to our beginnings

Clinging/sculpt

May you dream in many warm colors this night…

Clay sculpture done way, way back in high school circa 1979, and if memory serves she was nearly 3 feet in length and pretty darn heavy.

Outside the Window

Posted on February 27, 2015 by AM Roselli

My Friends,

Outside the window buildings twirl into the clouds
Inside are wisps of twisted thought
Up in the skies are throbbing raptor hearts
Inside are thumps of programmed expectancy
Westward are sands that time cannot shift
Inside – the tap, tap, tap of an egg timer
Under the waters coral architects sculpt
Inside are teardrops falling down a drain
Outside the window the world plays against the glass
Inside the sun stops reaching
May you dream while awake…

Long, Long Ago

Posted on August 22, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
When I was little, I wore my brown hair in a cute pixie. Next, I sported a mussy shag that I adored at age ten. My chubby cheeks were in full view. As I grew into my insecure teens so grew my hair. I realized if it grew it long enough, I could hide behind it. My face would be concealed, as would my thoughts. When I found my roaring twenties, so roared my hair. If I wore it big and crazy enough, people would run. In my thirties, I grew tired of hiding, I secured my hair in a heavy ponytail – like a sword.

Hair Hiding

Heavy as my hair got, it made my heart feel lighter.

One bright day I realized, hey, this freakin’ hair is really heavy and it hurts my head. I was ready to lighten the load. What made it much easier was knowing my ‘Linus Blanket,’ went to help make others secure. It has been donated a few times, the last being October 2013.

I don’t hide anymore. I can’t. My kids make it quite impossible, as does the giant husband. They always seem to find me. I miss my old friend. So back it grows, but this time for the right reasons.

Thank you. May you all be happy in your skin, and if your skin has hair, may it be as long as you like. Dream well…

Here’s to Daphne, a dear friend taken by cancer, a long time ago. Daphne and I used to peruse wig catalogues when she was up to feeling pretty. And to my valiant Aunt Lenore, also claimed, but was ever-valiant for many years…
Little Miss Long Hair created with Prisma pencil August 21, 2014 with my hair tied back. Photo is of me and my beautiful, younger sister Dolores in 1980. Sorry if I grossed anyone out with the shot of, My Hair in a Bag, 2013

“Every Inkblot Can be Turned Into a Butterfly”

Posted on March 19, 2014 by AM Roselli

Since I began building my little keystroke cabin in this charming corner of blogworld, I’ve met more than a few enlightening, whimsical and talented neighbors. To date, I’ve published 32 posts all written in a light, spontaneous style. I choose this approach for a very simple reason-life is not always light and spontaneous, in fact, it can be quite the opposite for many.

Yesterday I subbed in our local Middle School and there was an early morning assembly. My job was to escort the class to the auditorium then remain with them during the entire program. The assembly’s speaker was John Halligan, a man who’s dedicated his life to sharing a “powerful healing message of forgiveness and unconditional love.” On October 7, 2003, John Halligan’s thirteen-year-old son took his own life. There are many layers to Ryan Halligan’s story-a story of bullying, undiagnosed depression and missteps on all sides, along the way. During the ninety-minute assembly, John Halligan peeled away these layers one-by-one.

Ryan’s beautiful spirit, smiling and sometimes laughing floated by on a large screen behind his father as his sad story unfolded.
Listening to Ryan’s brave father speak on stage, at times choking up on words and images of his son, sent a powerful message. In his brief lifetime, Ryan wished for nothing more than unconditional love.The very thing that would have saved him. The very thing his father and mother gave and continue to give. In this world of excess and jargon, unconditional love remains free and honest. One of John Halligan’s closing remarks, “…if I’ve gotten through to just one student today, just one, this was worth it. Kids know you are loved, know you are loved, you are loved unconditionally…”