I’m honored to have 3 Pandemic Poems shared in, CARE Covid — Art REsource, a timely and thoughtful journal.
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Click on image below to do directly to poems.
I hope you’re all doing okay.❤️
My mother (in her twenties) and her magnificent smile! And despite suffering a major stroke two years ago, she still manages to show-off her gorgeous teeth!
While my darling daughter was checking out my ‘Published Writing and Art’ page, she informed me that many of the links no longer connected to the published pieces. In an effort to correct this, I went through the entire list and connected each piece to its corresponding blog page, as well as re-linking to the journal or site where each was published. This is the one that got away. It was published back in 2017, by ‘Miracles Magazine’ (A generous friend who still works for the magazine had asked me to submit work). I’m re-posting my poem, ‘Bessie’s Echo,’ so the link can be updated. Thank you.
in the distance
faceless proclamations bounce back and forth between the rush of cars
would’ve been herds of cattle trotting for lunch bells ‘cross the road
a yellow Adirondack chair on my front porch, I drink flavored seltzer from a tumbler pretending it’s Dom
spotted bovine hooves
only echos now like dairy farmers spirits loading Bessie’s milk on old Erie railroad cars
bound for the city
retired clanks and clatters float toward the bright sun that once fed fat cows golden grass
with bright yellow bellies flit by my front porch saying their good nights
cropped portion of a sketch drawn about ten years ago, someday I must redo this little sketch, the dang eyes are lopsided!
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
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
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)
deformed putty pink
robbed of warm breath
contorted sweet necks
tar bubble eyes bulging
frail unfeathered waxy torn
foiled unsung tiny raptors
never will gush
broad kite wings against the wind
meander upon the thermals
before winter’s white bone chanced a kill
stuffed down bright
spring’s dark bosom
strapped with dried fall grass
gentle summer kisses will not carry
sung in threes
new harmonies in pubescent throats
echoing from fresh limb to sailing cloud
undeveloped triplets all
small and quieted
in the driveway
sad little chicks
in her songs of silences
nature candidly reminds us
she is both
judge and jury
I wish this piece wasn’t here or anywhere else – but I hope it serves as a eulogy
for those baby birds – may they fly in eternal peace
art created last year for an illustrated project
riding the heat of dawn
we insinuated our bodies within one another
I presented myself to you
a wordless story
whispered in raging lines
fertile were my curves
from which our children sprang forth
spilling over with god given wealth
a rain of ages
carving the cradle of these infant sons and daughters
my breast milk abundant
long and beautiful
as I was
as I am
our story must not end here
if you suspected the Nile River, you’d be correct 🙂
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
the sun rubs earth’s elbows
the moon caresses her back
the wind feathers the soil
the rain cleanses her wounds
the fire titillates new life
the ice sculpts her bed
the clouds find purchase
the mountains alight
her muse sustains us
in perpetual current
as dried leaves fluttering away…
Thank you. May you dream of the seasons – old friends conversing at a tea party graciously allowing one another time to tell their tales…
Galeen in Autumn, collage created a few months ago. Published in a prior post.
I wish I had miles of long hair to toss out a tower window.
I wish I knew my children when I was a kid.
I wish I kept the little black motorcycle I never stayed upright on.
I wish I had a spotted cow in my backyard.
I wish I could wear a silver ball gown and waltz.
I wish stars were close enough to taste.
I wish I felt this young when I was.
I wish beds were made of clouds.
I wish I could share all my thoughts.
I wish I could wear night as a pair of mismatched socks.
I wish the sun set on my shoulder.
I wish words were made of water.
I wish dreams fit inside my secret decoder ring.
I wish I had a secret decoder ring.
And yes, my post title was inspired by the movie, Big Eyes which sadly I haven’t ‘scene’ yet, but hope to soon! In homage to Margaret Keane and her lovely Big Eyed Waifs, I’ve done a quick sketch of a modern Big Eyes. There is only one Margaret Keane. I am an imitator here, though I really did own a pair of earrings like the one(s) shown. Back in the 1990’s, a coworker quipped, “…waiting for the dog that’s gonna jump through those things!”
Thank you. May you dream wishes into your coffee…
Face Feature Mix done for studio class way back in, hum, I think 1983. Big Eyes Homage done quickly while wishing…