Archive by Author | memadtwo

Portrait (finished).

Of course I had to add color. It brought the drawing to life.

Without color.

Hope everyone had a great St Patrick’s Day.

harbinger

harbinger blk s

the blue of
darkness is
a blank canvas

from translucent music
comes
the shadow
of hope

moonbird rising
toward
the center of deep
light

It took me a long time to see the hat in Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above–to my eyes the form on the sign was a magical creature, perched on the threshold.  So I just went with it.

harbinger close up s

The collage box Oracle knows what the world needs now…

Poem at the Ekphrastic Review

devil 2 text s

My poem “(and the devil too)”, a response to a mysterious painting by Omar Odeh, is up at The Ekphrastic Review, along with seven other wonderful illuminations of Odeh’s work.  My thanks to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for including my collage poem amongst all the words, and for connecting me to the work of this artist.

(and the devil too) s

filling the margins,
spirits clinging to shadows–
the witching hour

The title is taken from a song by XTC, “Dear God”, a still (sadly) appropriate commentary on the world that we humans have made for themselves.

over and over

 

never ending

eternity magnetic s

What dark fire is this
melting the air with fresh blood?
endless broken days,

ghost voices lingering in
an eternity of tears

 

beyond lines and measures

beyond lines and measures s

The moon pauses, listening–
a painted backdrop bathed in blue,
a song returning to its beginnings–
Is it a permanent fixture or a trick of light?

A painted backdrop bathed in blue,
a tunnel lined with apparitions–
is it a permanent fixture or a trick of light?
The world approaches blackness,

a tunnel lined with apparitions,
lost in the far realms of the spectrum.
The world approaches blackness,
a stillness that eliminates the horizon.

Lost in the far realms of the spectrum,
unseen crows echo across the gap
with a stillness that eliminates the horizon–
is this the voice that calls the dying?

Unseen crows echo across the gap—
(there should be weeping)–
is this the voice that calls the dying?
There is not enough air here to hold my tears.

There should be weeping,
there should be an explosion of colors pulling at the soul–
but there is not enough air here to hold tears,
to keep the promise of breath.

There should be an explosion of colors pulling at the soul–
infinite branches of trees crowned with rainbows of wings.
How to keep the promise of breath,
to find the path of stars that carries the spirit home?

Branches, trees, rainbows, wings:
will you return life to its beginning?
Find me the path of stars that carries the spirit home–
the moon pauses, listening.

Another (non-rhyming) pantoum, for the Myths of the Mirror prompt for March, above.  dVerse is featuring pantoums this month, and Victoria has just written a post with suggestions to help in the writing of this form.

beyond lines and measures close up s

I would also like to dedicate these words to The Secret Keeper, whose passing was noted by her friend Shawn this week.  The many poems she inspired with her prompts live on.

 

Wedding Portrait (in progress)

My co-worker is getting married tomorrow. I decided to do a portrait of her and her husband-to-be. It is not finished; I don’t really have her mouth right. To add color or not?that is the question. Still not set up to paint but colored pencils are becoming my best friend.

Beautiful day here. I will post this drawing again when it is complete.

Unmasked

unmasked s

This face is not the one I wore yesterday. Recast as abstraction, it chases illusions that will pilot my borrowed dreams.  Today I am a galaxy of song, light, color and dance.

If I turn around
will I recollect myself
or pass myself by?

unmasked close up s

A haibun for the dVerse prompt of Mardi Gras, using synonyms for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday words “follow” and “lead”.  The collage is based on a Cajun Mardi Gras mask.  I also made the haibun a quadrille of 44 words after being inspired by Jane and Merril’s use of this very short form.

Otherworld

otherworld wht s

Our years collected and worn–
blurred images of moving light,
multiplied as remnants of form
in a place where days have no weight

Blurred images of moving light,
wandering rooted yet unearthed–
in a place where days have no weight
our location is always inferred

Wandering rooted yet unearthed,
entwined in threads of air–
our location is always inferred
like outlines of skeletal prayer

Entwined in threads of air,
our voices echo in disarray–
like outlines of skeletal prayer,
a presence hovering halfway

Our voices echo in disarray–
unbodied, but too tangled to deny–
a presence hovering halfway,
an absence dancing in the sky

Unbodied, but too tangled to deny–
multiplied as remnants of form–
our absence dancing in the sky,
our years collected and worn

Another pantoum, for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  This started out as a very different poem, but I think the Oracle is still hanging around.

otherworld close up s

dVerse is featuring the Pantoum this month.  In case you haven’t noticed, it’s a form I like a lot.

Weekend sketching 3/11/19

A front view of Lambert Castle, Paterson, NJ. I have a fascination with old buildings in my home town. The castle sits atop Garrett Mountain and Mr Lambert even built a separate tower for viewing from up high which you’re still permitted to climb when up on the Mountain.

Spring seems to be coming here in Northern NJ as I’m seeing shoots popping up here and there. And it’s nice that it will stay lighter longer! Have a great day.

Of Water She Speaks

of water s

of water magnetic s

The Oracle keeps her eye on the weather.

of water close up s

I took the title from a proverb, no doubt also the work of the Oracle:

“The moon, her face be red,
Of water she speaks.”

Must light have storms?

Goddess of purple mist
dreams the sky away
with rain

Ask the sun
about blue wind and red seas,
the enormous moon and the thousand ships
that go from here to there
from delirious to mad