Tag Archives: thoughts

Fa11en

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Originally published 9/11/14

For Americans, September 11th has become a day of reflection. On this day we remember the fallen, the injured, the loss, the lessons, the heartbreak, the world…

On that pristine cloudless day in 2001, the New York skyline was blackened. Americans were shocked by tragedy. What happened afterward was nothing short of spectacular. A collective spirit rose up like a phoenix. We grieved a long while then began rebuilding the fallen stone.

After 9/11 many of us looked for ways to help out. I painted hundreds of beach pebbles then planted myself in front of the local grocery store. I sold these rocks for $1 but many teary eyed people donated so much more.
9:11 rocksThrough the generosity of many, I was able to donate over $1,200 to FDNY Rescue 1. They lost eleven men, half their company. The portrait below is of FDNY Rescue 1, Firefighter Gary Geidel (44 years of age), lost 9/11/2001. This portrait went to his mother.
Gary GeidelThere are many parts of the world that can’t look back–their lands are still war zones. I pray for worldwide peace. It is very, very difficult…but not impossible.

For those who lost loved ones on September 11, 2001, my thoughts are with you on this sad day.

The Colors of Humanity

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Imagine our earth a giant color wheel
each of us a gorgeous dot of pigment
equal reds, equal greens, all colors equal

but we humans don’t think in terms of equal
quite as much as we should
we are alike
but ‘enjoy’ thinking otherwise
we tend to shove one another around
crash head to head
  we cancel each other out
and become void
we choose to destroy our brilliance

yet
if we agreed
equal to be equal
equal reds, equal greens
if we learned to stand
side by side
what beauty there would be

on the color wheel they call this complimenting
on the earth we’d call it peace
parrotI can’t think of a more beautiful, earthly color coexistent than a parrot
parrot in Prisma pencil done around 2002

opposing colors on the color wheel are called complimentary because when placed side by side they brighten, when these same colors are mixed in equal measure, they create a neutral or gray

For My Friend, Who Thinks She’s Lost Her Words

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I am writing this for my friend
who thinks she’s lost her words
who thinks her words
are trapped beneath rocks
who believes she doesn’t possess the thirst
to move those dry mountains
my dear friend
needs to know
her words, those languid thoughts
the beautiful ones under the rocks
will seep into the rich black soil
decompose
reform
then be carried onward by industrious insect and
cyclical underground element
until they flow into jostling aquifers
cascading into wild rivers
roaming up as sparkling wells
into crystal waters that feed bubbling fountains
in thirst she will sip
and those wet words
her words, will quench her imagination
saturate her parched muse
and her pen will flow once again
with the beauty
she thought she’d lost
somewhere along the way

Turquoise Eyes

Turquoise Eyes

Dedicated to my dear friend, Deb who has done nothing but encourage me to keep writing even when I  believe (as I do often), I am anything but a writer…

Birthdays and Band-Aids

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We cannot protect our children anymore than we can make ourselves less vulnerable to life. The best we can do is arm them with self-confidence so when their young, conflicted minds step into those ‘precarious’ fields the mantra, “I’m better than this…,” whispers like a gentle school bell, muffled beneath piles of internal clothing.
maxThe big son is still young. He turns fifteen this week. Like many others of his ilk, he enjoys sports. ‘We’ made it through another wrestling season uninjured and now it’s on to football. The big son is a gentle soul by nature–a pacifist at heart. I know it’s impossible to ask for such a divine favor as to keep one’s child completely safe while playing competitive sports, so I’ll just ask that he has fun and only requires a Band-Aid from time to time. And of course, I also ask that every child participating in sports this year remains safe. I know it is a tall order and a selfish prayer.

Last year the big son said to me, “I’ll feel bad if I hurt anyone, mom.”

I responded quite motherly, “Then tackle your opponents with love, son.”

I glanced up at the sky and prayed, “And God, I hope my son is tackled with love too.”
Love TackleLove Tackle, created last year with Prisma pencil. Partial post previously published around this time last year.

Happy Birthday, Max!

our blue boys

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the mantle has been empty far too long
I’ve been meaning to create another portrait
what else is an empty fireplace wall for?

it seems an eternity has passed
since working with a linen base and liquid pigment
pencil and paper are sometimes sorry replacements

on August 3, I set out my paints
and selected a canvas
large enough for a big dog
yet, not overwhelming
for a little one

our last Shepherd, Chama was a regal type
her stoic beauty typified her grace
I did my best to present these qualities
when I painted her formal portrait in 2002

Appreciating

our current dogs
hmm
Rocky the Shepherd
Mojo the Dachshund
what is it about this dynamic duo
that makes my family laugh often

they are quite goofy
yet, they can be fearless too
as small dogs usually go-
Mojo’s 13 pounds sees 90 in our Pella glass door
and
while a Shepherd cuts an intimidating figure
most times
Rocky acts quite silly

when conceptualizing a portrait
there is but one goal–
doing justice to
the subject(s)
outlook(s) on life
natural as the air they breath

in the case of Rocky and Mojo
I’d say joy
and since purple was not quite right
I chose the colors of a
blissful sky, a wistful ocean,
an icy fruit-sickle on a steamy day

our blue boys…
blue boys.largerBlue Boys, acrylic – 3′ x 2 1/2′
finished a few days ago, in between doing loads of laundry – ah, if only they could help with the chores, now that would be something 😉

Chama (Chama the Shepherd looking at her portrait), oils – 2′ x 1 1/2′
painted in 2002  (sorry for poor photo quality)

giving

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yanking a thread from the soul
that’s what it is
one filament at a time
you unravel

note by note
composing
soundless symphonies
for the outside world

dreaming
word by word
form by form
every infinite limb
in the universe
becomes rapt
in your pursuits

then
one day
there’s nothing left to give
only
what you’ve made

and your efforts
are either remembered
or forgotten
two horned blue birdcrazy blue bird, created a few weeks ago with Tombow markers and Prisma pencils, while in a feathery mood 😉

He Doesn’t Care, poem published in the Avocet

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he doesn’t care

he doesn’t care about crowns
he doesn’t know he is a king
his only kingdom is survival

we attached a silly moniker
for his magnificence
like we determine specie classification
all listed below us
we name each
for the natural beauty, grace and strength
we covet

we only become great with great effort
not like them
who fly, leap, run, swim
in a way that makes us
desire trophies

we manufacture superiority
how we love roaring
we are the rulers of this earthly kingdom
you are only, King of the Jungle
because that’s what we named you…
Lionessdrawn with prisma pencils a few years back

 

no mint breeze in the rain

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many have written about rain
how the rain makes you lonely
endless drops echoing in an empty chest
the cold of them creeping up your shirt
shudders into the back bulge
the obvious dullness of the sky
over-burdened clouds unable to ease the mind
wind maybe, no breeze
delicate mint leaves collapse
they don’t know the end of it
never do
endless repetitive pings on pavement
no playing on the drooping lawn
  sucking mulch beds
engorged suburban septic sours
the smell can be bad
so the rain
it is wet
it is sad
it is dark
for a big-eyed kid waiting for the storm to pass
boy with green glowing eyeswhy this face? I’ve no idea…more crayon playing and yes, it was raining.
For Fawn – may rain come your CA way
(there is happy rain, I was in a melodrama moment-perhaps I shouldn’t write while drinking red wine 😉 )

Homage to Doctor Moreau

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“The crying sounded even louder…. It was as if all the pain in the world had found a voice.”

“For everyone the want is bad. Some want to go tearing with teeth and hands into the roots of things, snuffing into the earth.”

“An animal may be ferocious and cunning enough, but it takes a real man to tell a lie.”
insane lioness singerQuotes from the transformative pen of H.G. Wells, The Island of Doctor Moreau

my creature gal created about 3 weeks ago with no hard-core animalistic intent

boiling blood

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boiling blood
coagulates like milk
clogging thoughts
thwarting permeation
to the heart
raging senses
flame anxiety
heat depression
lacerate hope
undernourishment
of the mind
as blood thickens
the heart hardens
like curdling milk
the soul sours
until
no contentment
in cool flowing breezes
only writhing anger
in hot spiraling winds

animated refuse

animated refuse