another love poem published on the ever-inspiring FOXGLOVE JOURNAL – please share if you enjoy the read – humble thanks
here they are
on the honeysuckle bookshelves
framed in backbone
one story each
pages of words romanticized and read on occasion
to sit in the chair by the window
sanguine days of flipping
to the bottoms
on lower shelves
anxious to move up
art previously published
sometimes it would be nice to
slice off a mountain top
throw it on the back of your bicycle
pedal to a hot air balloon
load it up in the basket
float with the trade winds
set down on an island
let the mountain top find purchase
out comes the duffle bag
stuffed with books, pens, pencils, paper
you sit in the cradle of a crevice
while cumulus clouds
wrap smokey wreaths
around a newly discovered peak
think about those clouds
and what elevates their being
a veil of interest
a touch of form
lay the pens, the pencils
and the books to rest
take the paper
fold birds and planes
let them catch the thermals
some will disappear into the light blue white
a few will sail onto the water’s surface
those will sink
but not the spirit
in which they were made
nor the clouds floating onward to
other fantastical islands
16′ x 9′ mural painted 13 years ago in big son’s room, horse characters from the DreamWorks movie, Spirit; Stallion of the Cimarron
For the last several days, I’ve been purging my studio. This has included perusing files where many short stories and manuscripts duly sleep.
This past year I managed to complete and send out an illustrated project (my first). But for the past five years, I haven’t fleshed out one work of fantasy. Back when my YA (young adult) stories were submitted, publishers like Llewellyn, Dutton, and Knopf all requested to read more. After these second reviews, my manuscripts received (what I like to call) ‘positive rejections.’ The general consensus – my characters though, “…quirky, interesting, lively…,” were incomplete. These ‘positive rejections’ have allowed me to believe there is merit to my work but I need to improve upon what I’m doing.
The second piece of focus–my art. My wall easel has not seen a fresh canvas in quite sometime. I haven’t worked with loose color in a while. Below is my painting, “Jess” the little girl who began my love of expression. The post on her is called, Burning to Paint. I keep her close at all times.
In my post-writing process, I’ve discovered a sort of “free verse” voice I was unaware of. At the ‘tender bullying’ of some blogger friends (you know who you are), I might look into ‘publishing’ some of these in the future. Each post I’ve written for, anntogether has taken thought and time. I don’t ever want that to change (nor do I want to embarrass myself with work I’m not proud of).
I began this blog to put my art and writing into a sharing forum. I so enjoy exchanging ideas, thoughts and looking upon all your creative masterpieces. I’m daily blown away by the endless universe of talent and the selfless time fellow bloggers give of themselves. But if I want to share more art, I have to make it first…
Just look through my studio doors, there is a dog who doesn’t get enough attention and a piano that is not being played. Oh, yeah and there’s that family, the ones who live outside my studio – two teens and a giant husband – all whom I adore.
So my friends, I’ll be gone just a bit–taking in some summer time. I’m not sure of the duration – who knows – I might pine for this addictive blogosphere too much (I’m missing it already and I have even left yet). I might come back with my paintbrush tail between my legs and my stories will have to remain sleeping awhile longer in their file drawer coffin.
I wish you all a glorious summer start and nothing but magic for your lofty dreams…
Hello my friends,
As today is Thespian Thursday, followed by Folly Friday, Selling Saturday and Sensible Sunday – I’ll be taking a few days to powder wigs, replace corset laces, polish eyeballs, rewire fingers and recharge brains…
I’ll see you back here lupine Monday (assuming the wolves haven’t enticed me to continue with my singing lessons and relocate). Hopefully enough moon glow will have landed in my soul by then.
turquoise eyes prisma pencil 2006
nutz rendered a few months ago while I had partial brain power
What is it about leaving our ‘normal’ lives if only for a few days, that throws off the brain’s trajectory? The trajectory being any forward motion beyond a REM cycle. How different we are from one another, whether two streets or many countries apart. Yet despite distance, we constantly seek out similarities. We ache for common ground on which to rest our feet. Beyond grasping the universal necessities of breathing, drinking, eating, sleeping and reproducing, we are often perplexed. The bravest of us dive deep to skim emotional distances beyond invisible borders. But many of us are not brave. We take comfort in comfort’s sake. Our superficial observations block insight. Languages are walls of jumbled symbols. Unfamiliar comfort zones are not easily navigated.
I wonder – as I’m quite sure many of you do – what non-earthly sentient beings would deduce from our world, both past and present. Would they consider us intelligent, performance-driven, altruistic and neighborly? Or looking down at Earth, would they believe us devoid of any compass, moral or otherwise? Lacking universal sameness, would these sentient beings comprehend our world? Would they conclude we live well together?
This outdoor sculpture stands behind Marble House in Newport, Rhode Island. As I took this photo, the sky bright all around, I contemplated what a non-earth entity would make of this particular subject, hence what they’d think of us earthlings…
Thank you and goodnight. May you slumber deep and float upon sparkling space dust…
Alien Ragoo created July 22, 2014 with Prisma pencil while listening to Lincoln’s Biography.
How did the other half live – the half whose summer mansions were opened for precious months, maybe just weeks out of the year? I’ve just returned from a whirlwind Newport, Rhode Island mansion tour. I would answer the question this way – they LIVED. Gilded walls, marble staircases, tapestry-covered walls – they LIVED. Did endless wealth showcased in opulent behemoth vacation homes make these folks smile every morning? I couldn’t say. Only ‘they’ could have answered this query honestly.
Many of their family tree roots have since grown deep, watered with wealth. Some have donated much. Others have sold plenty. A wonderful, silver-haired tour guide, whose face was deeply etched with lines of history jokingly remarked, “A fourteen-year-old Anderson Cooper was left a large Newport home and seventy-one million dollars by an Aunt. What fourteen-year-old can live on seventy-one million?”
My favorite mansion was not actually a mansion, but a replica of a twelfth-century Song Dynasty temple in the backyard of Marble House – called the Chinese Tea House. In the late 1800’s, Alva Vanderbilt hosted rallies for women’s suffrage in this lovely structure by the sea.
Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of sipping delicious tea by the glorious ocean at sunset.