golden opportunity

back to the beginning
evolution
back to the beginning
2016

the world spins
axis
the world spins
speculation

yet this morning, I couldn’t keep off the keys
music
yet this morning, I couldn’t keep off the keys
social media

steer by the stars
navigate
steer by the stars
fame

“It was the best of times,
it was the worst of times…”
we tend to forget
we tend to remember

need a period of darkness to bloom
poinsettias
need a period of darkness to bloom
civility

golden opportunity
ours
golden opportunity
2017

Gallean with ragdoll

our story must not end here

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
multitudes

spilling over with god given wealth
a rain of ages

carving the cradle of these infant sons and daughters
my breast milk abundant
nourishing young
influencing adult
satisfying aged

long and beautiful
as I was
as I am
beginning
to end
our story must not end here

Golden Gyptian

if you suspected the Nile River, you’d be correct 🙂

 

that I cannot do

Tell me how
you make it look so easy
They follow you like puppy dogs
that, I cannot do
I’m the one in the corner
watching all the tails wag
If we were in Rome
they’d be your dancing harem
I’d be off in the market
flattening papyrus
or washing sand from between my ink-covered toes
head wrapForlorn
drawn today while subbing

Fa11en

Originally published 9/11/14

For Americans, September 11th has become a day of reflection. On this day we remember the fallen, the injured, the loss, the lessons, the heartbreak, the world…

On that pristine cloudless day in 2001, the New York skyline was blackened. Americans were shocked by tragedy. What happened afterward was nothing short of spectacular. A collective spirit rose up like a phoenix. We grieved a long while then began rebuilding the fallen stone.

After 9/11 many of us looked for ways to help out. I painted hundreds of beach pebbles then planted myself in front of the local grocery store. I sold these rocks for $1 but many teary eyed people donated so much more.
9:11 rocksThrough the generosity of many, I was able to donate over $1,200 to FDNY Rescue 1. They lost eleven men, half their company. The portrait below is of FDNY Rescue 1, Firefighter Gary Geidel (44 years of age), lost 9/11/2001. This portrait went to his mother.
Gary GeidelThere are many parts of the world that can’t look back–their lands are still war zones. I pray for worldwide peace. It is very, very difficult…but not impossible.

For those who lost loved ones on September 11, 2001, my thoughts are with you on this sad day.

natural deselection

trexearth 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

selling crap is worth every penny

rabbits need foster homes
bunny butts need to be supported or they fear predators are eating them
Mary’s husband was a Vietnam Vet
for years he tumbled out of their bed with the shakes in the middle of the night
an elderly gentleman named Joe believes men know they’re officially old
when lovely young women ask if they need assistance carrying boxes
young kids who enjoy reading Harry Potter
will most likely enjoy reading Percy Jackson
if you put Marilyn Monroe’s image on anything
even garage sale signs, she will be stolen
putting Marilyn Monroe’s image on garage sale signs
works
if you say free coffee
people still think they have to pay
kids eat free cookies with joy
adults eat them sheepishly
many drivers of luxury cars
relish finding great deals
a five dollar chair that you bought for $200 long ago
will be sold for one dollar paid in quarters and pennies
people will give twenties when you don’t have change
people will give change from plastic snack bags
a horse working for less than three minutes on Saturday made a hell of a lot more money
than I did this weekend
giving stuff away for free that others can use
is the best feeling in the world
taking a break from WordPress
reminds one that it’s not Mac wearing the pants
learned more this weekend at my silly garage sale
than I have in a long time
PINK MMpart of my silly garage sale sign sans boring info

my treasure

I didn’t know your history
your smile never let on
I didn’t know your struggles
you lifted us without complaint
I didn’t know you cried yourself to sleep
you kissed us so gently
I didn’t know you grew up shunned
your embrace included all who entered
I didn’t know your ninth Christmas
you wished only for peace
I didn’t know your childhood
you gave your own children love without conditions

I was a teen, when you told me
how your father drank
all the fights, the smashing glass, the screaming
you were kicked out and had to move nine times
your childhood was a dark story
one you never used to fan futile flames
you welcomed life
donned a brave face
put yourself through college
and never looked back

you are my role model
you are my treasure
you are my dearest friend
Happy Mother’s Day
millie b:wabove my mom at 18, below (and I never lie) my mom at 78
millie at 79

Teeth and grandkids/acrylic

5’x6′ painting done at my mom’s request about eight years ago – all her grandkiddies and all their teeth!

xoxo

Deconstructing Mary

I recall two special people every April,
like a pair of sad-eyed jacks –
Abraham Lincoln
and my friend, Mary.
I dream of Lincoln sometimes,
a long voice burning in my head brighter than any bullet.
And my friend Mary.
I met Mary many, many years ago.
She always wore silver hair and a smile
and sipped tea from bone-colored porcelain ware.
That’s what I remember.
Her invitations to tea.
Her framed mantle photos.
Mary’s stories lived in the folds of her face.
Her most prized story floated
in the crinkled waves around her ocean eyes.
While my clumsy fingers fumbled through the handle
of a delicate porcelain tea cup.
Mary told me ‘the’ story at our very first tea,

1912
A young man and his childhood friend were to travel to another country. They planned to find dearest loves and build dream homes. When the auspicious morning arrived, the young man’s travel companion was nowhere in sight. With no appearance by his friend, the young man made a difficult choice. He watched the steamship sally forth toward the horizon and away from him. Gravely disappointed was he to miss the once-in-a-lifetime, maiden voyage of the luxurious RMS Titanic. The young man did eventually meet Mary. And they fell in love. They had ten children. Their children had forty-eight children.

Mary is gone now.
Has been for quite sometime.
But there is always this week in April,
I fondly remember
Abraham Lincoln
and my sweet, departed friend Mary.
nana darkShortly before midnight of April 14, 1912, the RMS Titanic struck an iceberg, at 2:20 am the ship went below the water.
Abraham Lincoln – born February 12, 1809, died April 15, 1865
Dark Nana acrylic on illustration board done many, many years ago before I required eyeglasses.

February 12 Birthday Call

My Friends,
Every year I call my youngest brother who was born on Lincoln’s birthday. I ask if he’s had his birthday cake. Each year on February 12, I think about Mr. Lincoln too. I often (more than I care to admit) pretend I’m part of the crowd in Sangamon County back in 1832 when a tall, awkward man delivered his first public speech. I wish Mr. Lincoln and I could have shared a slice of birthday cake.

“…But if the good people in their wisdom shall see fit to keep me in the background, I have been too familiar with disappointments to be very much chagrined.”
Your friend and fellow citizen – A. Lincoln.
March 9, 1832
abeThank you. May you dream of tall men wearing tall hats speaking of grand possibilities.

I created the computer portrait above using Adobe Illustrator and a mouse. At the time, Prentice Hall hadn’t purchased stylus pens or tablets. And as I mentioned in my previous post, I was learning enough with Adobe to be dangerous. This was done many years ago. 

When’s the Last Time You Talked to a Tree?

My Friends,
Give yourself the freedom to imagine. Open your mind and hear the gracious wisdom of a tree. Spend a precious moment. History is gently preserved within its wooden clock rings. Deep-etched lines of warm bark, give rise to fantastical images.
Tree FaceRooted in a tree’s very heart are magnificent stories there for the listening. Magic is all around. So I must ask my friends, “When is the last time you talked to a tree?”
Sleeping RootThank you. May you dream of having a tree party with friends.

Tree faces created yesterday while listening to the giant husband and big son’s football ruckus 🙂 Tree Root photo taken this past summer at a Newport, Rhode Island mansion. I thought the root looked like a slumbering child.