Archive by Author | memadtwo

Crossing the Line

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My lines are
drawn, but I fail to
remember
convergence,
intersection, obliqueness.
Which side faces out?

I have stepped
between them, under
and over,
dropped, swallowed
and walked them. But where is the
point of no return?

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For Day 23 of NaPoWriMo, we are playing with words.

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Earth Day Tanka

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I knew that the Oracle would have some words to give me for Earth Day.  She did not disappoint.

Rest you gentle world–
watch seasons breathe, wandering
through sun rain and night.

Follow darkness with long songs
spiriting—grow wild, complete.

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I have to make a respectful disagreement with the NaPoWriMo Prompt for Day 22.  Physics (if you’re scientific) and the Spirit World (if you prefer that approach to life) have shown us that the impossible is always waiting for us just beyond our current state of awareness.

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Happy Earth Day!  May we work together to find and nourish leaders who respect and honor our home and all of its inhabitants.

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logo-napowrimoMy monoprint sequence was inspired by Joan Mitchell’s painting “Another World Inside the Walls”.

In Wait

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I meet myself without mirrors
I meet myself masked by flowers
I meet myself beyond words

Inside the air, evoke words
Inside the stones, seek mirrors
Inside the earth, bleed flowers

I find my bones among flowers
I find my bones reflecting words
I find my bones as shards of mirrors

Inserting flowers inside the mirrors of echoed words

I’ve combined the NaPoWriMo Day 21 prompt about Narcissus with Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, “Waiting”, above, which reminded me of the way a re-mirrored image can seem to have no end.

I wanted to use a poetic form with repetition, and chose the tritina, which always sounds to me like a spell being cast.

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Poem at “Formidable Woman”

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My thanks to editor d. ellis phelps for her lovely post about Laura Nyro that includes words from, and a link to, my poem “Gonna Take a Miracle (for Laura Nyro)”.  You can find it here.

Congregation

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Trees
rimple-
faint curtains
tucked between sky
red roses weathered wood blueming wave song

When looking for synonyms for “gather” for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday prompt, I was immediately drawn to rimple.

I decided to try a Tetractys cinquain.

Off prompt but on time for NaPoWriMo Day 20.

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Gouache resist: success

Well, I used the correct ink on this one and it turned out better.

This is the first painting of thick gouache. Painted over it in Black Magic ink but didn’t take a picture.

After washing off the ink. The black ink stayed on the white paper just how I wanted! Much easier to go back in and make marks when you get a ready made background!

Friday and it’s looking nice out there. Have a good weekend!

Dream Pantoum

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Don’t lose the number she said.
Her face contained a message I could not read.
The number blurred and then erased itself in my hand.
Who has stolen the letters of my name?

Her face contained a message I could not read.
The words rearranged themselves into something geometric and alien.
Who has stolen the letters of my name?
She pretended that she had never seen me before.

The words rearranged themselves into something geometric and alien.
Don’t call me that I said.
She pretended that she had never seen me before.
No space would open to hold my configuration.

Don’t call me that I said.
The words stubbornly resisted my efforts to speak over them.
No space would open to hold my configuration.
A stranger took my hand and led me out of control.

The words stubbornly resisted my efforts to speak over them.
I tried to convey the causes of my distress.
A stranger took my hand and led me out of control.
We faded away, farther and longer away.

I tried to convey the causes of my distress.
The number blurred and then erased itself in my hand.
We faded away, farther and longer away.
Don’t lose the number she said.

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I love the puzzle of composing a pantoum.  Loosely following the Day 19 NaPoWriMo prompt to compose a poem from a story, I used the dream I had last night just before waking.  I had this stitched magazine face in mind, too, as an accompaniment.  Below is a synopsis of the source for the poem

My Dream

They gave me a name tag and a number. “Don’t lose the number,” they said, but immediately my number blurred and then erased itself.  The name was not my name, but it stubbornly resisted my efforts to mark over it.

I tried to tell the woman who seemed to be in charge that I needed to be called something different, not the letters that formed a sound that belonged to someone else. She pretended not to hear.

Someone took my seat. Someone I was sure I knew acted as if they had never seen me before.

We were supposed to write stories. I could find no notebook, no pencil or pen that belonged to me.

I sat in the back, alone.

A stranger, a tall young man, his face all glasses, took my hand and led me away. I tried to convey my distress; tell him my story.  He smiled and did not answer.

We faded away, farther and longer away.

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 Also linking to dVerse open link night.

Procreate for iPad

I’ve been hearing about the Procreate app for a while. I downloaded it the other day on my new iPad. I couldn’t really understand it. My daughter looked at it and said it’s a lot like Photoshop. Anyway, she created this image out of art that was on the iPad. How, I don’t know. But she said she would help me figure it out. I’ve seen some great work done on this app so I hope she can help me. Again (disclaimer) this work is by my daughter, not me, but she gave me permission to post it!

Autumn (after Joan Mitchell)

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I am startled by silence
appearing suddenly, grey, tangled, dense–
all color has fallen away,
hanging by whispers to sharp edges and desolation.

I reach for wind–
carry me to fields where sun
returns blue to sky,
calls trees to green.

The NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 18 was to take lines from a poem (backwards, from last to first) and write a response to each line to make your own poem.  Since I have been using the art of Joan Mitchell as inspiration this month, I was pleased to find that she had published a poem, “Autumn”, in Poetry Magazine.  You can read it here.

 

An Oldie

I came across this painting I had given to my sister. It is quite old although I don’t know the exact date. It is inscribed “to Jane with all my love”. My sister was my biggest fan; she always said when she retired she’d be my agent. I wish she had lived to accomplish that goal.

I’ve always liked drips and this is an early example. I think it’s straight watercolor. Another gloomy day in NJ but the daffodils and forsythia are blooming. Spring: soon!