when two human beings
cherish each other enough
to link as one,
the only orientation
that should matter
is that of their hearts
frog and friend (detail) painted years ago
And to all you terrific moms out there, HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!
Tag Archives: poetry
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
above my mom at 18, below (and I never lie) my mom at 78
5’x6′ painting done at my mom’s request about eight years ago – all her grandkiddies and all their teeth!
xoxo
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
horses, giraffes – who knows – painted for an exhibit long ago entitled, “Creatured”
the ocean’s power
twenty lifetimes of burden for one to bear
is unjust
life asks so much of some
while requesting so little of others
the waves you cherish
float sorrow along
when you’re ready to let go
let the bad memories sink
to a place where they can no longer drown your thoughts
or consume your heart
perhaps there will come a time
where the waters won’t be so tumultuous
peace will ripple
and sailing on a cool breeze
through silent ocean blue
an aqua-eyed mermaid
with delicate feet
and hair spun of flaxen gold
will find you
welcome her with open arms
allow yourself
happiness
and the power of
the magical ocean
find the peace you seek
dolphin created with markers, a touch of acrylic and some ‘ocean’ water 😉 for an upcoming project
cliff driving
breaking inside
so this is what it feels like
not so bad
I can ride this out
my Harley is jacked
chiseled with painted flames
and gassed up
plan on doing the 218
you know, the black zigzag along the Hudson
when me and the Harley squeeze
the sharpest cliffs and steepest drop
I’m gonna leap off the saddle
and let that tricked-out bike fly solo
there goes my pain
crashing with mortal heat
into the frigid river
a bicycle she rides, but we can pretend it’s a big, awesome Harley
Thoughts to Nepal – may the death toll stop rising and the injured get the help they need
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.
Shortly 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.
Oh, come all ye faithful
Oh, come all ye faithful
to the hand of metal
to the arms of action
to the shade of mine
Oh, come all ye faithful
do not look away
do not compel
do not doubt
Oh, come all ye faithful
join the chain
join the spirit
join the mask
Oh, come all ye faithful
you are blessed
you are one
you are more
Oh, come all ye faithful
the time has come
the moment near
the foretold primed
Oh, come all ye faithful
on the water
on the dirt
on the cracks
Oh, come all ye faithful
leave your flesh
leave your blood
leave your ashes
Oh, come all ye faithful
where is ye heart
where is ye courage
where is ye faith?
May you dream of peace in the night and in the day and all the moments in between…
Detail from acrylic painting circa 1990
Job Box
Long ago
letters were thoughtless
compartmentalized
in walls of wood
lined in metal
alone as they were
dull
strung together
blossomed
broad thoughts
narrow concepts
soft guilt
hard passion
letters
singular
sideways upside down
gathering residue
together
prescient
wipe clean
return home
job box
alone again
’til evenings events
rally
once more
May you dream of beautiful transient letters making gorgeous journeys…
Above: Long ago, individual metal letters for traditional typesetting were kept organized in job boxes. The boxes were actually drawers that slid into a larger metal cabinet. Today, these boxes are considered antiques. I was given a plain wooden job box in exchange for a painting I did for someone. I painted the box and added my kiddies plastic toys, when they no longer had need of them. 🙂
Sparkling
breath just out of reach
in the lungs
in the soul
her heart was tired
her eyes more so
those lovely fingers
nails thin and yellow
once strung delicate white lights
on every willowy houseplant
claiming the toasted-cream living room
a mechanical bed usurping
the mahogany coffee table
those vertical houseplants
sparkling oxygen
into dying black irises
feathers and leaves usher her
to papa’s homeland
embracing over cobblestones
pattering bustling streets
inhaling baked flour
smiling at
a bouncing soccer ball
little white lights dripping
across canopies
warm bistros and red wine
her breath
whispering
I am home
I am home
I am home
those houseplants
sparkling
Robin’s Tree
May you dream of a full, beautiful life…
Tree painted about 2 years ago for Robin
Those Were the Days, My Friend
you and I once sang
all the time
your knees were knobby, mine round
we sang out
those were the days, my friend
we loved that song
remember
singing for nana and papa
our little voices were bigger back then
before time pushed notes down our throats
and set us to rhythms
for a while
we fought the changes
when our little voices were bold
and we sang
those were the days, my friend
I think about you often
hoping you remember
those unabashed girls
sisters
friends
whose little voices
rang out
those were the days, my friend
May you dream of your sisters and hold them tight…
Photo of me and my sis way back when we never changed our shirts or cared 🙂 and below, my tea for 2 lady created with Prisma a few months back.
And a big thank you to my friend, Deb Levy who provided me with – Deb for Dummies – step-by-step instructions on how to embed a video – this is my very first and I couldn’t wait ’til Monday!
Tea Cap
Peace to the families and friends of the Germanwings jet tragedy
anntogether 