why fix this broken machine

why fix this broken machine
the urgency in uplifting messages
broadcast with heavy hearts
misguided mobs leveling cruel ends
by hideous means
refusing to behave
as a beautiful homogeneous group
faith shaken to the core
our vast home, shriveling
wicked minds vexed by calculating brains
broad strokes of ignorance painting world murals
why fix this broken machine
pulling loads up the mountain
carts inundated with hopeless direction
greed, avarice, folly, sickness
wishing upon flesh stars

…still…

despite every sour moment
we suck into our spongy hearts
there is something undeniable
in the endless beauty of man

we are not machines
we are not broken
we fix the pieces that wear over time
we readjust the parts because we have the ability to do so
we restart the stops in the moments we catch our breath
we reignite the stalls when our brothers collapse upon themselves
we do not crush ourselves, over and over again
we reinvent
despite the few who dare to rip the road from beneath our feet
we continue walking up the mountain

there are those who choose to break
there are many who refuse to be broken

Dream Catcher

Dream Catcher

I wish you all a more hopeful, beautiful and peaceful New Year. Here’s to gentility, civility and warm embraces in 2017
am:)
xoxo

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is it here

is it here
the lifetime
the hours
the minutes
the moments
you work so hard for
kill yourself
push your mind to its unsustainable limits
your heart to its non-containable boundaries
those out-of-sync metal drums
steel tubers slithering between your ears
a maelstrom of indecent wavelengths
not silent since
Silent Night split open the cheer seams
of your calloused fingers
will they ever notice
will he
the lifetime
the hours
the minutes
the moments
sacrificed
a shining star at the top
these endless soul-lurching efforts
is what you daily imagine
when your brain has space left
and the tree is vertical
upright and fresh
in the daylight
things hide beneath other weights
wet spoons and sockets could fry away this opus
remember to wait for the dark
I promise
delicate lights will remind you
rest a minute
a moment
allow the silent night
to quiet your nerves
in this tiny magical space
reserved for you alone
the lifetime
the hours
the minutes
the moments
the ruckus in your body
the battles in your mind
the promise to yourself
never lose sight of the star
the one you placed perfectly on the tree
in the finest snippets of clarity
your mantra
and mine
the inner-voice of relentless hope
it is in these tiniest moments
timelines do not matter
even in its frailest state
hope
is our shining gift

with hope we are at our best
in hope we are at our most human

Baby Elf

Baby Elf

 

Blogger G

would I know you, Blogger G
would you know me
if we passed each other on the street
on a mountain path
in a crowded mall
in a dark crevice
would I feel your words
would you sense my visual energy
is there a virtual language we might speak

do we know each other well enough
to know each other at all
all this time
intimately connecting at the push of a button
I wonder, Blogger G
would we hug
would it be a handshake
perhaps something more

how well do we know one another
when these machines allow us to be
whoever we want
there are times
Blogger G

I will admit
I write while pretending I’m someone else
my art
might represent me
other times, I don’t know what it means
how about you
Blogger G
do you create as yourself
or do you channel some netherworld persona

I think, my friend
unless we are wearing
our digital masks
we won’t even know when
we’ve stepped on each others’ toes
so I wonder
Blogger G
after all this time
if we ever really knew each other at all…

mint eyes

mint eyes


positive rejections

My friends,
For the last several days, I’ve been purging my studio. This has included perusing files where many short stories and manuscripts duly sleep.
file drawer betterThis 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.

Dunce

Dunce

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.
jess on easelIn 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).
cropped-header.jpgI 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…

Flollowers Beastie

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.
piano roomSo 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…

Praying Wizard

Praying Wizard

Thank you,
annmarie:)

I AM, Incognito III, The End

When I speak digital dialogue
a light is always on
someone is always home
(except when I’m not)

there isn’t a wizened wizard behind a curtain
or a trickster troll posing as a person
or a salivating creature baiting its next meal
(well, I do like monsters with large gooey teeth)

behind the words and images here you’ll find
a woman
child
mother
girl
wife
daughter
daughter-in-law
sister
sister-in-law
an aunt
cousin
godmother
friend
reader
art instructor
pen-pal
animal lover
monster maker
music maniac
teacher
frustrated prima dona
coworker
bad cook
confidant
neighbor
blogger
athlete
pianist
clod
goofball
optimist
idealist
‘artist’
‘writer’
schemer
dreamer

in this great, big world
technology
shouldn’t ever remove
the human in us

thank you,
I
AM 🙂
eyes-1college collage

selling crap is worth every penny

rabbits need foster homes
bunny butts need to be supported or they fear predators are eating them
Mary’s husband was a Vietnam Vet
for years he tumbled out of their bed with the shakes in the middle of the night
an elderly gentleman named Joe believes men know they’re officially old
when lovely young women ask if they need assistance carrying boxes
young kids who enjoy reading Harry Potter
will most likely enjoy reading Percy Jackson
if you put Marilyn Monroe’s image on anything
even garage sale signs, she will be stolen
putting Marilyn Monroe’s image on garage sale signs
works
if you say free coffee
people still think they have to pay
kids eat free cookies with joy
adults eat them sheepishly
many drivers of luxury cars
relish finding great deals
a five dollar chair that you bought for $200 long ago
will be sold for one dollar paid in quarters and pennies
people will give twenties when you don’t have change
people will give change from plastic snack bags
a horse working for less than three minutes on Saturday made a hell of a lot more money
than I did this weekend
giving stuff away for free that others can use
is the best feeling in the world
taking a break from WordPress
reminds one that it’s not Mac wearing the pants
learned more this weekend at my silly garage sale
than I have in a long time
PINK MMpart of my silly garage sale sign sans boring info

A House’s Heartbeat

I promised myself when I started this blog, advertisers wouldn’t appear on it (except for that little sneaky ad WP sometimes places on your post’s bottom and you have to pay them to make it go away). I’ve stuck to my word and passed on several opportunities.

Recently, a lovely gal named Kellyn who’s involved with a realty company came across my mural post and asked me if I’d be interested in writing a post about my home. I don’t receive anything for this other than the challenge of taking halfway decent pictures and possibly being ‘twittered’ at some point. I don’t even tweet. My mom was a realtor back in the 1980’s and her hard-earned success helped put six kids through college.

Kellyn of Compass was so very gracious and took the time to answer my emails and concerns, I thought hey, a house post might be fun. So without further ado here’s looking inside my interior…

A House with a Heartbeat

Way back when I was shorter than a kitchen drawer – fun color, fuzzy slippers, comfy furniture and book-lined shelves held the magical ability to let me believe I was special. Flash forward to 2015, my belief in a home’s magical abilities hasn’t changed.

My current home was new when we moved in twelve years ago. When our colonial was rising from the dirt, there were things that bothered me like a visible outdoor meter and a small main entrance with Amazonian ceilings. With a little creative inspiration and a paintbrush, these disappointments soon became dust bunnies under the desk of life.

The Amazonian entrance was cut down at the knees with sweet orange and warm yellow. Our children’s rooms became personal art pads they filled. Eventually furniture that could hold real people moved in to occupy other rooms. Above all else, shelves of books and islands of treasure were added where empty just wouldn’t do. Our house began filling with personality while my family fashioned its warm heartbeat.

Brave visitors are welcomed with warm color!

hallAh, the kitchen – home to 30-plus guests during our annual Thanksgiving Palooza.

kitchenAnd what would a home be without sentiment – this horse is the lone survivor of a pair. It was my Nana’s. He stands sentry on the windowsill over the kitchen sink.
horse bookendOff the kitchen, is my favorite place in all the world – my studio.
studio I adore books and the giant husband built these industrial studio shelves. Art books are heavier than Michelangelo’s David.
studio bookshelvesMusic fills a home with song. Owning a baby grand, albeit an old one, was always a dream of mine. The ‘music’ room adjoins my studio – I can sing or draw. My family prefers that I draw.
pianoThe giant husband and I enjoy flea marketing. We bought this chandelier long ago at an old-fashioned market where you could buy worn baseball cards, old shoes, chipped dolls and assorted light fixtures…
dr lightThe family room mantle has had more facelifts than Joan Collins. I slammed this last iteration with a loaded sponge – ecru and gold paint over turquoise for a faux ‘marblish’ look.
mantle When the kiddies were small, I painted special little touches in their rooms. My son liked camouflage.
camo closetThere are the murals I’ve painted in my children’s rooms. This one was done when they were very young. My son, now 14, won’t let me paint over it. He’s mushy like his dad.
(Horse characters from DreamWorks 2002 animated film–Spirit; Stallion of the Cimarron)
Spirit MuralThe giant husband built a frame from molding and I burnished it gold for my daughter’s dressing table.
caroline's roomI always wanted a fireplace in the master bedroom. The giant husband surprised me with this one. We gave it a book mantle topper. The fake fire crackles!
fireplaceAll rooms, even the bathroom, must be a happy place to sit!
turquoiseIt’s the special little things lurking around bright corners that make a house fun.
ornamentOr tigers ready to pounce from on high –
tiger topStair squatting is the only way Mojo can see who’s approaching.
mojoOur German Shepherd, Rocky likes waiting by a door.
rocky tip headAnd finally, before one enters a home they must feel welcome. I can’t think of a bigger hello than a bright Adirondack chair.
yellow chairHope you enjoyed the tour…
waitingThank you.
May you dream of living in a comfortable space…

Hello Dollies, Please Don’t Hurt Us

My Friends,
This blog of mine has been through several iterations. While returning from a self-hosted site back to WordPress, many older posts were lost in translation. I’m going to use Sunday evenings to rework, repair and repost some of my favorite 2014 efforts. I hope you don’t mind blogging down Memory Lane with me. If you haven’t read before, I hope you enjoy.
Thank you,
The ‘Annagement’
 (sorry couldn’t resist)

Hello Dollies, Please Don’t Hurt Us
(originally posted 4/15/14)

Returning home from a lovely garden journey, the giant husband and I happened upon an old-timer’s flea market. A pair of cigarette-smoking, timeworn vendors stood outside like cement lions. They wore pensive smiles while observing curious browsers.

The market’s outdoor portion consisted of a few makeshift tables loaded with lopsided frames, 1950’s tools, hat boxes… The indoor portion was housed in a dilapidated and dank-smelling barn that had seen better days. The giant husband and I strapped on our big-boy coveralls and entered the jittery building.

Beside the usual flea market fare of old records, fringed lamps, mildewed books, chipped dinnerware and broken Tonka toys there were boxes of dead dolls. I can’t think of anything more blood-curdling than little plastic people. Dolls used to scare the crap out of me when I was a kid, now they were back to haunt me.

These dolls were broken-hearted. Their tiny scratched lips whispered how long they’d lived without a warm embrace.
solo dollThey’d been abandoned then forgotten…
solo dollThe dolls choked on satin visages of yesteryear. Long ago, they’d been precious…
headEyes once marble-bright were now marred dull like the fabric tears of stuffed clowns…
clownThe giant husband and I had to look away from the pained grimaces.
wrestlerBut the most frightening thing of all was when a little sinister man-doll attempted to steal the giant husband’s soul…
bpThank you. May you dream of happy dolls in warm homes.
All photos taken in April 2014 with iPhone. I’ve made it a personal goal to attempt art for every post, some earlier posts in 2014 have only photos.  

BOLDLY NAKED or BARELY THERE?

Dear Friends,
Alas, my solemn promise – this is the last I will speak of my blog’s clothing this year. I began on WP back in February 2014. I went for a redesign that I liked, but it was through a self-hosted site. That, I didn’t like – too many bugs. Now, I’m back on WP. I’m so happy to be here, but my theme is naked.

Sexy Skeleton

Sexy Skeleton

Hey, I like naked as much as the next person, but a little excitement/color now and again never hurt anybody (unless we’re speaking in, Shades of Grey 😉 ).

Uncle Vam

Uncle Vam

So this is the newish blog. For now I hope my artwork will be enough. And yippy, I can reblog again!

Voodoo Yellow Man/mixed media

Voodoo Yellow Man/mixed media

Well, that is all. Thank you. Dream well my friends…