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.

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…

mudder

you know what hurts
besides hitting the bold key by accident
knowing
he will never love you
too many of ‘those’ women
prancing the inside lane
you’re not even allowed near the thoroughbreds
at best, you’re a mudder –
on a good day
if he enjoyed plowing the fields
and sweating under winter’s sun
he might appreciate your broad shoulders
wide wrists
and footsteps that echo

Horaffe/acrylic

horses, giraffes – who knows – painted for an exhibit long ago entitled, “Creatured”

The Land of Little

My Friends,

Long ago
in the land of little
a big girl smiled
she worked small movements
she moved in tight steps
she managed
to be small
in the land of little

Long ago
in the land of little
trotted a pony
the big girl smiled
life was pretty ponies
and giant dreams
stepping up
she was asked
to step down
too big
for the little pony

big enough
to hide the tears

big enough
to have
smaller dreams
in the land of little
mistyMay you dream of galloping on a prancing pony with smooth, satin grass underfoot…

Shetland Pony painted when I was little 🙂