Tag Archives: poetry

“to live”

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A March 2024 sketch done with a ridiculously large Ticonderoga preschooler pencil
“Little Karole” would blossom into a six-foot-tall, gorgeous woman who’d live an amazing life as a stained glass artist. And much later, she’d become my beautiful mother-in-law.

perhaps it is my 60 years of age inspiring the words below, it could be that the majority of my new friends, most in their 70’s and 80’s, continue to open my eyes in every direction but down

“to live”

I don’t believe the phrase “to live” means escaping our burdens

I don’t believe “to live” means transforming ourselves or collecting accolades

I don’t believe “to live” includes acquiring wealth or building empires  

I don’t believe “to live” means ignoring the past or focusing on the remaining years as we age

I never believe “to live” is expressed through curated media or grinning images

I do believe “to live” creates dubious comparisons of one against the other

I do believe the phrase “what it means to live” suffocates dreams before they begin

I do believe “to live” finding strength in our efforts amid others indifference

“to live” brave in our ‘individualness’ while accepting others in theirs

“to live” caring for ourselves so we can care for others

 “to live” stepping forward when we’ve lost someone behind us

And I always believe “to live for today” when it is tomorrow

am:)

Yes, Thinking about Millie Again

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Another recent sketch – I call this one, Movie Star Millie, drawn from a 3″ photo taken in Atlantic City when my mom’s life was opened to an ocean of possibilities

To keep my focus on the spirit of an image and not become mired in details, “My First Ticonderoga” #2 HB lead pencil is the only art implement I use. This pencil is a cumbersome preschooler one. Many times while sketching, this ginormous lead pencil really pisses me off, but I persevere, because I need the practice.


Why Millie this morning –

While reorganizing my studio desk, I opened the box tucked in the far back of the top drawer. In the small box, a Metropolitan Museum angel ornament Millie had given me years back, plus, other keepsakes added along the way. One such keepsake, another gift from Millie, was a poem printed on ‘parchment’ and its accompanying angel pin whose wings had broken off and disappeared.

I got to thinking how missing wings don’t matter. Missing wings will never matter.
Millie’s angel will always lift me up.

xo
am:)
Happy April Flowers

The Lollipop Vanishes

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(Above, a recent sketch I did of my dear friend, DS Levy. My reference was a photo taken when the amazingly talented writer known as little Deb had a typewriter already growing in her heart)

Man, it has been a long time since I’ve posted. Like you all, I’m juggling coffee mugs attempting to make a Venetian decanter. I’ve been doing quite a bit of writing and ‘arting’ offline. ‘Tis difficult wanting to do it all with the damn clock dictating the days.

I do hope you, your families and friends are doing okay.

Here’s a piece I wrote sometime ago while sipping coffee in the kitchen of my previous home:)

The Lollipop Vanishes

The cold isn’t done yet. It remains bluster-blue out there. Steam from my morning coffee marinates my face while a pen hanging from the calendar on my pantry door doodles pictograms. The wind spirits are still dancing. Shouldn’t have cracked the kitchen sliders open so early. Perhaps the swinging pen is scrawling a message from beyond, should I pray or wipe the door down?  

Time flips on its head whenever clouds sail by that fast. Between sips of luke warm coffee, I remember me as a little girl in brown polyester, a tomboy with a pageboy, and a half-shirted party girl. Young woman with a career, an apartment, a sports car, a motorcycle.

As a lefty, I never learned biker right-hand turns. The bike went away. I totaled my car. The car went away. I bought another car. Got married. We moved from New Jersey to New York. We had children. Moved into a bigger house. Our large dog died. We got another dog. Plus a smaller dog for child anxiety. My children earned degrees.

Our family had a bad eleven weeks that killed my father and mother-in-law and gave my mother a massive stroke. My mother died three years later. I don’t remember being her caregiver. My children moved into their new lives. We downsized into a new “old” house. My husband’s hair turned grey. My older relatives are nearly done dying. A box of Clairol waits in the wings for me.

In one of my book clubs, I’m the oldest, in the other, I’m the youngest. I worry the elder members will pass on before reading the next book selection.

The lollipop vanishes, and the goddamn stick can beat you into the ground if you let it.

Look out there, the gray is fading to light purple. How lovely. That’s something I haven’t seen in a while.


am:)



Sometimes the cold tries very hard

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to bore into the underbelly of our hearts.

When trying to imagine the light
this grey time of year can envelop us
in its blue without shadow

To taste the sun on our bones
we must always be willing to barrel down the glassy peaks —
ice be damned!

(image courtesy of some screensaver thing somewhere)

– this morning I was thinking about the ice dark outside my studio window and these words found their way into my cold dang fingers – this is my winter desktop every year – it changes along with the seasons

I hope you’re all managing well.
am:)

A Post-Holiday Post

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Apologies for the post-holiday posting of this. It somehow landed in drafts when I imagined tapping the “publish” button.

A merry montage for my family that I share with you this Christmas.

May you, your family and friends, near and far, enjoy a peaceful and joyous holiday.

Love, am

Nero the Cane Corso, friend and muse to my sister, Grace; Honey the Pit mix, adopted this year, crazy companion to my sister, Dolores; Cormac/Mac-mac the Malamute, snow-lover and liege to my sister, Virginia; Mojo the Dachshund, long-bodied, big-hearted buddy to my family; and last but never least, Kiwi the Testudo tortoise, roommate and foil to my daughter, Caroline❤️🎄🌟

Bringing the Misfits Home

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Bringing the Misfits Home
A Sentimental Christmas Memory

we embrace every relative
     load up the wagon, pack in tight and leap onto the highway
Staten Island to New Jersey
     chrome steeds try galloping past our Country Squire, but Dad fantasizes he’s lead stallion
from the rear-facing seat, I watch the mesmerizing herd of headlights
      trail farther and farther behind       
no other man (driving 90 miles an hour) will ever replace this depth of faith
     my fierce childhood possession, always

into the cold, dark Jersey night, we arrive home
       the V-8 shudders, the presents cushioning our sleepy heads rattle
       my little sister’s pigtails shift on my shoulder, I shake the bones to wake us up     
Tima’s barking gnaws the sleep crust from our eyes
        while we unpack every last ounce of Italian cheer and clamp our gifts
       beneath all available arms
my brothers, sisters and I march like weary soldiers across the snowy lawn  
       we trudge up the brick stoop and into our warm home
pajamas quickly managed, we mime brushing our teeth

       Mom tucks us in and kisses our cheeks with her smile brighter than winter
I surround myself with stuffed animals, swaddle in blankets
       and stare out my bedroom window to search for the blazing star of my picture books
      (I’ll later learn that I’d been praying to Venus all along)

tomorrow, like clockwork, Emile will stop at the corner of our street
       yell out in his mildly, terrified mailman voice, “WHERE’S TIMA?”
one of us will step into the cold to coax our hefty German shepherd
      away from her favorite place on the front stoop to bring her inside
      and just like that, Christmas is officially over

(Opening image, 1980 – Christmas Tree)
(Image directly above, 1980 – my little brother, Vito, me and our goofy shepherd, Rosie
Unfortunately, I couldn’t find an image of our childhood shepherd, Tima, a much more serious-minded shepherd )

Hope you’re all doing well ❤️
am:)

Reconstruction Writing from My Kitchen Sink

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Long ago, I began what I affectionately titled my ‘kitchen-sinking file’
an ever-growing repository to hold my murdered darlings —
the words I couldn’t jettison into the infinite, all-powerful,
sometimes destructive, and often just downright crappy
void of invisible voices

For this first short reconstructed piece, I wanted an environmental theme — Though the merged thoughts are depressing, this was an enjoyable exercise to do. I hope to create a few more of these pieces in the future.

Reconstruction 1:

NATURE VS US
we seem to be fighting against her
only one of us can emerge victorious

I.
while we busy ourselves engraving our legacies into granite
the concrete angel arms waiting for our bones fade away
beneath the ebb and flow of our disbelief

II.
DELETED as we delete the things we detest

III.
beyond the horizon, where the hot lands submerge
he rolls his great mane to rest upon the blackened grass south of the Sahara
      the great space around him vanishing as he sleeps

IV.
slipping and whipping down the burning slide
saddled to a cement slab in sun dried: Any Town,
Earth County
ZipZapped000

V.
obfuscators of earth’s guardianship whose clasped hands grip limitless wealth
      (go ahead, toss those deposit boxes and time capsules into the rising sea)

…and they tossed their wishing well coins

VI.
sometimes our beasts go silent
sometimes our beasts escape
most often they starve to death
despite their accumulated knowledge

VII.
long ago, a pregnant virgin cradled my childhood faith

VIII.
I must remember skating on Papa’s ice pond, and I must always pray for spring

——————————————————————————————-
captured footnote: X——-X
entry: byte.non–f (fire drive destroyed 2025/alt recovery file cap 219) 5Z 7K 24X: date doc//
October of the 6th route//2030
——-
archive:context txtvolume79033cvx130..:///Rational science had been crushed beneath the Mad Believers (4fT99)//and those by their side squatted on the world… during this period, fear and hate thrived and love un-lived
Entry200060002324//eventually The Mad Belief (ipsumibidMXCII1112) was forgotten ///recollected during nature’s self-purge/mankind no longer present… ———- end entry…datapoint…X
recording 54567 —–someone screaming on the floating island
collect years, savaged roots, where are you all???end transmis
/’’’tend the children well/’’’’’ they begged, sow seeds, plant saplings
you there – apologize for unsalvageable soil. unusable water
earth’s clock solar-powered
no backup
no backward
angels’ concrete dissolved

Hi there,
How I wish there was more love flooding the world rather than tidal waves.
Nonetheless, I’ve anchored the drywall in warm hues.
(Blue DragonUmp latex satin too depressing)
Here’s a brush of autumn color for your chilled porch.

artwork created a few years back, updated recently (snake & squirrel created with Prisma & watercolor marker, snake background created with Canva/fun program:))

The Steady Blue Firmament

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vito fbi copy 3
Dear Dad,

Your eyes flashed the colors of a summer storm.
Thunder rolled along the pink of your mouth.
Your shadow filled our home whether you were with it or not.
All this hurricane in one man.

But as terrifying as the clouds of my childhood could be at times, you were the sky.
How I miss the steady blue firmament of your presence in my life.
Today, somewhere out there in the nebula, you’ve turned 92 years old.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Love,
AnnMarie

The UFOs Came and Went but They’ll Return Again Next Year to Pine Bush, New York

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For the last few months, I’ve been busily preparing for the UFOs and aliens that descend once a year upon the little hamlet of Pine Bush, New York, a town notorious for its SIGHTINGs and outer-worldliness. Pine Bush even has its own UFO and Paranormal Museum. And the annual UFO Fair draws in both the curious and the faithful by the thousands.

As a first-time vendor to this fascinating experience, I was surprised and amazed at the LOVE everywhere. Storm troopers hugged those who needed hugs. Green and purple people alike held arms. Folks, who’d traveled from near and far, visited the over-hundred plus vendors who were selling UFO tees, posters, stories, books, art, food, handmade items, gifts, jewelry, costumes, music, mementos…

I was blessed to have dear assistants willing to do the 7:30 AM setup, the 4 PM breakdown while smiling, standing, and working through it all. (Large husband and growing son in upper right photo)

My personal hope was to sell something, anything, so I wouldn’t have to walk home with my art-tail between my legs. I was pleasantly surprised. I sold art prints, my poetry book and tees too. I made a nice chunk of dollars that I’ve since deposited into my art & writing account. And now, I can use this hard-earned bounty to create more monsters and aliens! What a great day it was👽

I hope you are all well and managing life on earth. I thank you for visiting my little planet.

am❤️

Endless Love for Millie & Renewed Appreciation for My Little Book

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my favorite millie copy

I self-published love of the monster in 2016, followed by the ebook version in 2017.

I’d been romancing the silly notion of selling my books at fairs with my vivacious mom who was all in. So, after the ebook arrived on Amazon, I had the physical books shipped home. (to this day, a few print books remain on Amazon through second-party sellers and – a funny story about pricing for another post another time)

But sometimes plans falter, and life lobs a hardball at your chest. Those of you who’ve been kind enough to read an occasional post of mine here – know beautiful Millie had passed away after battling the ravages of a major stroke for three years. During all that time, my books and a large portion of my heart were shoved into a closet.

Fast forward to 2023, and brighter times (life may lob the occasional hardball, but the timeouts help one’s heart to heal). A unique book-promoting site who goes by the name of Shepherd asked if I’d be interested in having love of the monster featured on a page. At first, truthfully, I had no interest. Then one morning I woke up and thought – What the hell. Maybe it’s time. What have I got to lose? Millie never quit.

I thought through the many books in my life that have influenced me. I wrote about five special books, both past and present, that I adore and how their pages help me in my creative process. This is where the Shepherd experience is different from Goodreads or seeking books out on Amazon. The Shepherd site doesn’t just list an author’s book, it lists their personal stories about other books too. Since love of the monster is an illustrated poetry collection, I wrote about books of poetry.
Author or reader, you should check out Shepherd for yourself: my book recommendations linked here.

I’m happy to say my enthusiasm for my little monster book has returned. And here I am again. Or rather, here is love of the monster again. This time around I’m only online promoting the ebook. To honor my mom, I’ll do my best to smile her smile as I attempt to peddle love of the monster books at fairs. (If you should want a print book and don’t like fairs, you can always email me, amroselli.writer@gmail.com or you can purchase a book from Amazon which could be cheaper than me shipping a book to you. I’d probably charge 5+shipping. I could write a note inside and add a fancy signature if you’d like;))

In summary:
You should absolutely check out Shepherd.com for yourself

love of the monster ebook is re-available on Amazon Kindle. (Going forward, I hope to get it uploaded to Barnes & Noble and maybe Apple Books too. Figuring out file deliveries is quite challenging)

I will be embarrassing myself in an attempt to sell love of the monster books at fairs that have hot coffee in fall and winter and iced coffee during summer and spring. I shall smile like Millie.

I miss my mom like crazy, but rather than get teary-eyed anymore, I smile in the knowledge of how blessed I’ve been to have known and loved such a spectacularly joyous person.

Thank you,
am:)

The 5 books I wrote about and shared on Shepherd: the books pictured below are fantastic! It’s wonderful to write about and to share the spectacular books out there in the world!

book list