sweet insomnia

I hope this piece does justice to the wonderful creative appreciation going on this month: Children’s Book Week (4/30-5/9) in homage to my favorite children’s book; Pegasus, The Winged Horse, A Greek Myth Retold by Nathaniel Hawthorne. The illustration is a cover detail by the talented illustrator Herschel Levit. The writing also pays homage to National Poetry Month as it suggests Ithaca, legendary home of Odysseus. Thank you

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death stallions

alas, another horse drawing done at eleven years old, horses ever on my brain back then – thank you

chiseled stallion manes

a grand canyon
opens upon herself
deliberate in need
a succubus of blazing color
lifted from sunken oyster shells
bewitched by desert suns
he, Bryce
wild stallion manes

chiseled of stone
breaking gravity
powdered blue with atmosphere
tawny bleached

breathless creations
we limited to human-ness
can only admire

skeleton stallion

skeleton stallion

many years ago, I saw the Grand  Canyon and believed her lovely, but I was exceptionally amazed at the unusual beauty of Bryce Canyon, Utah
the background in this sketch is an homage to Bryce

ghost horse

It has been said of the song, Wildfire, it arose from the artist’s subconscious
–a Native American tale about a ghost horse

mythical and sweet
oh, imagine
a golden Palomino mare carrying sunlight upon her hide
how she would warm your aching body
settle your bones

ferry you to another place
distant from worry
away from strife

all you hear
rhythmic patter of spiriting hooves
winged forelocks
lemon-white mane wrapping your bare skin
keeping you secure
she gallops across the planet
without grazing earth

your stomach lifts
your heart steadies
peace she finds
for you
never the same place
but

if you should call her twice
if you should summon Wildfire
to guide you away
she may just bring you
back home again
wildfire

sketched on the way to New Hampshire last week, after listening to Michael Martin Murphy sing his Wildfire

I want to again thank those of you who sometimes read my verse. I’ve been amping up the language or at least trying to. I’m not always comfortable pushing the pub button with some of these posts–last night’s is a good example. I challenge myself to step out of my comfort zone. I hope by doing this, I’ll discover other directions to pursue. I do admit it is fun dreaming up saucy voices–though these ‘characters’ make me the saddest after they’ve been fleshed out.  With each piece I try to get away from who I am and write as if I’m someone else. Sometimes these ‘personalities’ beg the question-okay, AnnMarie–what’s the next move. I’m not always sure. It is this uncertainty that pushes me onward.
Thank you, again.
I’ve called on Wildfire more than once:)

Have a lovely weekend.

the way home

blue horsesyou blew in from the west
over the mountains
wild
yes, you were
fences knelt down before you
they knew
I didn’t
just how renegade you lived
painted horses tucked in your pockets
winged eagles in your arching limbs
I was
captivated by the movement of you
I was a farmer’s daughter
tending the domesticated
managing the meek
you yanked earth’s carpet from beneath my dusty sandals
my fall excited you
thrill caught the wet corners of your mouth
you kissed my naked feet
we pawed the dry soil with our dancing toes
the mountain’s other side
a mystery to me
you kissed me hard again
squared my trembling shoulders with the heaving sunset
unbound I wanted it all
in one delirious grab
I could have flown away with you
but
their cave-black eyes pressed to mine
like canvas prayers sailing to heaven
wet udder tears, careworn soldiering hooves
they knew not the way home
I did

the spirit of a cloud

sometimes it would be nice to
slice off a mountain top
throw it on the back of your bicycle
pedal to a hot air balloon
load it up in the basket
float with the trade winds
set down on an island
let the mountain top find purchase
out comes the duffle bag
stuffed with books, pens, pencils, paper
you sit in the cradle of a crevice
while cumulus clouds
wrap smokey wreaths
around a newly discovered peak

think about those clouds
and what elevates their being
a veil of interest
a touch of form
lay the pens, the pencils
and the books to rest
take the paper
fold birds and planes
let them catch the thermals
some will disappear into the light blue white
a few will sail onto the water’s surface
those will sink
but not the spirit
in which they were made
nor the clouds floating onward to
other fantastical islands
Spirit Mural16′ x 9′ mural painted 13 years ago in big son’s room, horse characters from the DreamWorks movie, Spirit; Stallion of the Cimarron

soiled

they are deep
embedded in the rug fibers
attached to my shoes as the chair rolls away
when my feet are bare
not on the rug
but in the soil
these thoughts
rake at my chest
all the way to my soles

you cut
deep gashes in my brain
bleeding my heart
wetting the soil
blackening my naked toes
in a thick sorrow
I won’t allow my eyes to see
or they’ll cry
and I’ll sink into the mud
that feels like cement

Scorbir/acrylic


scorpion/bird painted long ago

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
blue horsesyellowed horses
inspired by avant-garde artist – Franz Marc’s, gorgeous colored horses, all of them

sailing on terra firma

sadness
suspended by the cool sea
blue on blue

restorative
warm earth anchors
soil sanded tones

floating
directionless
ebb and flow

hope

believe
you can sail
on terra firma
caroline in ocean

Seabiscuit Shell

Seabiscuit Shell

delicate daughter as a wayward mermaid – one of my favorite photos
seabiscuit shell created a few months ago after staring at my Breyer’s horse collection that shares my studio (yes, I keep plastic horses – in my defense – they are very pretty)
Maybe a Triple Crown…