I. Doe and Deer II.The Littlest Dear

 

I. Doe and Deer
deer familytoward the back end where the trees grew thick
and adjoining woods within range
she moseyed about the lawn

a pair of leggy fawns nearby
one did not roam far
the other
well, the other
scampered, hopped, sprinted, leaped
jumped over a hedgerow and disappeared
my mind yelled, get back over here!
I held my breath


moments ticked by
measured by my desk timer shaped like an egg
there to ensure I vacate my studio every so often
over those bushes with a freewheeling bound

she pranced back into view
so confident
her sister
remained clinging to mama
with just blades of grass between
all the while

the doe continued steadily munching
taking no notice of the staying
or the leaping
she was a constant
and they were not
at least
not for a long time, yet…

II. The Littlest Dear

there was a young deer
though there were many others
none were like this one
her back was not quite right
things that were supposed to be inside
were outside
she was dying
life was pooling quickly in those somber, black eyes
her last place of rest was against the cold cement wall
of my home’s foundation
I sat ministering her
misting her cracked muzzle
hoping to keep ignorant flies at bay
I rubbed the velvet between her ears, still so very soft
I sang songs, my words were choked garble
I wondered if she’d had a good life
I whispered goodbye
and asked anyone listening
to please take care
of this little dear

Deer Friends

art I. while in my studio thinking about an idea, I had the good fortune of a doe and her 2 young ones crossing my backyard, so very enchanting (as long as the vegetable garden gate is closed) – I went a little sappy and put a little smile on the frolicking fawn 🙂

art II. previously published during Xmas

both stories here are true…I think about that littlest ”dear’ more often than I probably should

no eyes to ponder

she is tired of nothing
but can’t keep her eyes open
she is a conversationalist
but she’s been silenced
with no eyes to ponder
or hands to hold
behind this illuminated screen
she is at a loss to help
his battle scars are dug in deep
beneath invisible flesh
she needs to face the faceless
it’s time to move forward
and return
to what she does best
helping those she can see..

uptitty bookreader

uptitty bookreader

against a thick crimson sky

lone soldier

this day is not ours to decide
it is done
some had no choice
sacrifices made
youthful years in hell
bodies and minds disabled
parentless children
forever missing
white markers
against a thick crimson sky
we commemorate those
living daily nightmares
eternal memories stowed
in footlockers
those of us 
untouched by blood
this day stand beside
those who act(ed) honorably
who often return(ed) alone
these dutiful hearts
must never
sense anything
but respect
compassion
evermore…
pop Germanymy father-in-law while stationed in Germany
below, enjoying his US return
with his beautiful girl who was to become my mother-in-law
below that photo, one from 1919 LeMans, France
my father-in-law’s father #95
war returnLeMans, France 1919

curves that matter

you passed me by
it was raining
I was on the street with my head down
thinking of cleansing sidewalk grime
I saw your face warping in a slap of puddle
I know well the finite curves of your jaw
did you know that
you never knew the curves of mine

I need someone to know my curves
not the soft arc cylinders praised in romance novels
but the invisible shapes that fit one into the other
that’s what I need
I’ll say my goodbyes in this puddle
to your thoughtless lines
parallels never meeting
and lift my head when the spherical sun returns
and the dirty sidewalks sparkle

Gea/pencil

Gea/pencil

Gea drawn long ago when my name was much shorter 🙂

The Legend of an Angry Catwoman

My Friends,
The legend of Wampus Cat speaks of a Native American woman of breathtaking beauty who possessed a passion for knowledge. A passion that would ultimately bind her in fur and claw.

Wampus Cat
Daring to learn the sacred stories of magic, she stole under the cloak of night and mountain cat-hide to eavesdrop on tribal elders. Medicine Man sensed something amiss and she was soon discovered. As punishment, Medicine Man transformed her. With one stroke of his mighty hand, her body absorbed the mountain-cat hide she wore. She morphed into a wicked creature destined to roam the woods and hills forever alone. She never acquired the knowledge she so desperately desired. She was educated in rage. Her mind knew what she’d become. Forever…

So if you venture into the forest deep, and should you hear the crack of wood or the soft patter of a two-hundred pound cat woman, you best run. There is no smooth-talking Wampus Cat – you’ll only piss her off.
Wampus Cat Thank you. May you cuddle with sweet kittens and pampered pooches. And hopefully, Wampus Cat stays in the forest.

Wampus Cat sketched today while beautiful snow was falling. This sketch is unfinished. She needs  work and I’m unsure about the tail – could look unnecessarily ‘phalic’ (might be a bad thing for an agitated woman). Final render will cover Wampus in black fur and white teeth 🙂

Fly Lord

My Friends,
What can I say about this sketch. Today I subbed as a teaching assistant in an English class. I had the privilege of listening to an intelligent teacher discuss, William Golding’s timeless masterpiece, Lord of the Flies. And since listening only requires ears, my fingers kept a pencil and paper bizzzyyy.

Mr. Golding never ceases to inspire.
fly lordThank you. May your dreams be free of buzzing bugs.
For some reason I think Fly Lord should be playing a fiddle.

Zealous Zombies

My Friends,
I hope the morning conversation I had with the big son gives you a smile, before darkest night settles into your bedrooms.

Setting: This morning. I’m in my studio working. The big son is in the family room connected with teen buddies via his mystical Xbox.
Action: Studio phone rings. I answer. Nana (my mom) is on the line with a tech question. The big son handles all grandparent technical issues.

Me, “MAX-”
Big son, “WHAT?”
“MAX, I need your help-”
“Ugh!” Speaking into his headset, “Guys, if I die just leave me there.”
Big son enters studio. “What, mom?”
“Nana’s on phone with a tech question.”
Big son takes receiver, assists Nana then ends phone call. “Mom, I was killing zombies!”
“Aren’t zombies dead already?”
“Yeah, but they can still run really fast-”

zombie skunkape

Ah, to be dead and still run really fast 🙂
Thank you. May you dream of outrunning zombies…
Pencil sketch raised from earth yesterday.

The Magical Slumber

Dear Friends,
A sleeping baby is magical. His flawless face bestows peace. His satin skin softens hearts. His bowed lips know only love…
Baby ElfThank you. May you sleep in the arms of sweet peace.
Baby Elf sketched in pencil last night and charcoal detailed today

Earth logo for blog

Crossing More Than Fingers

Dear Friends,
Over the last few days, I’ve seen two excellent conscience-bearing movies. Into the Wild, directed by Sean Penn is based on a true story. It’s a convincing cinematic portrayal of a young college-educated man who forgoes the trappings of society and our manmade shackles. His search for a ‘purer’ existence ultimately brings him to Alaska where he must attempt survival. The other film, The Eleventh Hour, directed by Leonardo DiCaprio lays out mankind’s future if global warming isn’t taken seriously. Both films left me thinking about how I live my life. They left me pondering my children’s futures if we can’t reign in our want, and stop treating nature as a thing to be bartered and sold.

Yesterday my post included a silly Christmas tree. For reference I’d snapped a photo of the delicate daughter crossing her arms. While on a sub break today, I was perusing my photos and stopped at my daughter’s image. I drew her sweet face during lunch. I pray the bright future reflected in her caramel eyes, is the bright future she will have on a beautiful healthy planet…
Caroline Hands CrossedThank you. May you dream of pure air and crystal water.
Delicate Daughter sketched today. Little Miss Green Apple below done with Prisma pencils several months ago.

Miss Green Apple

Miss Green Apple

Nostril Bone

Dear Friends,
Was I in an O’Keeffe mindset, while thinking about my mother-in-law who lives in New Mexico? Was it current high school subbing – placing me within earshot of, Lord of the Flies and ‘his’ staked pig’s head – that prompted this? Whatever the flirting muse, Nostril Bone, manifested two days ago and I ‘kinda’ like her. She may become a painting…

nostril bone Thank you. May you dream of insect-free, big skies.

CALLING ON ALL PERSONS WHO BREATHE FREE AIR,

PLEASE READ AND PASS ON: Liberian Letter