Ask these tongues
how can my dreams
shine by day
yet ache like storms
together their music rains
symphony and sky
This was another collaboration with Nina and the Oracle that fit together really easily. We decided to surprise each other today with our artwork and post separately. I punched holes to embroider on the paper, and then decided just to leave the holes. The weird light is because I photographed the collage taped to the window so the sun would shine through the holes.
Jane Dougherty’s microfiction challenge #15, “Freedom”, was posted way back in September. I liked the painting by Ilya Repin (below) so much that I did it twice. Above is the first response.
In the middle of the ocean
time fades into mystery
a journey illuminated
by movement translated into form.
What lies beneath this dream?
Lie down beneath the shadow of the stars
the summer night is lonely, full of haze
the sea reflects the silent air so dark
and good things never last, or so they say
But open up your heart, release your mind
and see the sun despite the purple sky
the waters laugh and sparkle, move and shine
the world goes round and round as echoes fly
And if the heavens give us pearls and dreams
and if a blue moon showers us with words
and if a shining diamond fills the seas
why can’t the starfish transform into birds?
Imagine that these clouds hold hands with love
and rain the stars from eyes to skies above
For some reason, the photo in Jane Dougherty’s meter poetry challenge this week (above) immediately made me think of Prince. I decided to use snippets from his lyrics, along with Jane’s words suggestions of “stars, night and water”, in my poem. I thought about a ballad, but in the end trying another sonnet seemed to fit the best. This second sonnet attempt was definitely easier than the first.
These Rorschach paintings are also going interesting places.
Enjoy your weekend!
When did the laughing begin? the door is like a mirror: you see yourself. The dream face opens a window and draws you into a world that endlessly circles. I mirror you in images that don’t exist yet. When did the laughing begin? The door…
Jane Dougherty’s microfiction challenge this week includes the painting above and the theme “who goes there?”.
I’m still working on cleaning out my old work files. When you design from home, they tend to accumulate, and the last time I moved I never even opened a lot of boxes. I found this painting in a grouping of children’s book illustrations I did at least 25 years ago. I did not paint it on watercolor paper, so it’s a bit wrinkly.
A friend of mine worked at Simon and Schuster at the time and suggested I send some art for consideration. The rejection letter was in the file, along with a bunch of wildly different illustrations…well they did say the art was “above average”.
Working freelance, I tried anything and everything design-wise that was asked for or suggested. Some things worked out better than others.
pink wish opening
hearts filling time with winged dreams
Moon and stars, big and blue the sky–
sleep coming, sleep is coming soon–
wings drift close, shadowing the light.
I wish for wings so I could fly–
touch the stars, touch the shining moon–
map the sky by scattering dreams,
catching the stars to say good night,
sky covered with magic moon beams.
The elementary school my daughters attended celebrated National Poetry Month in a big way. The children read and wrote a lot of verse, and Poem in Your Pocket Day was always fun, as they would pull out favorites to read to their classmates. Last year in April I posted a few of the bookmarks the school made one year with poems and artwork from the students. Both poem and artwork above were inspired by the bookmark below.
I love the images both Kenisha and Keanu used to represent the dreamworld of the night. Both would be in their early 20s now; I hope they are still writing and drawing their worlds. And producing poems from their pockets!
My poem is in the form of a san san, the challenge by Jane Dougherty this week. NaPoWriMo used this form for a prompt too, and I’ve wanted to try it, so thanks Jane for the push!
nothing is there what does this mean?
knock at the door pass in between
as if possessed spiritual dream
needs to be seen needs to be seen
the outer edge a spiral shift
imprecise blue cosmos is glimpsed
visions reborn new dawn eclipsed
changes are swift changes are swift
messages from next higher plane
emerging forms transcendent state
purpose in mind always in vain
questions remain questions remain
art like a thought galactic death
end of the world portal of breath
moment in time what happens next?
paths intersect paths intersect
not of the hand not of the eyes
essence of how essence of why
still in the dark chaos replies
the answer lies the answer lies
A monotetra from Jane Dougherty’s weekly challenge.
Both artwork and poem were inspired by Hilma af Klint, a Swedish mystic who painted more than a thousand of her visions and messages from spirits from the late 1800s until her death in 1944. During her lifetime, no critic or gallery owner championed her art. And since her will requested that the paintings not be shown until 20 years after her death, it was only in the 1980’s that the work began to be seen and to reach a wider audience.
She experimented with geometry and automatic drawing in parallel with well-known modernist artists like Klee, Kandinsky, Mondrian, and the Delaunays. Like them, she was also influenced by the spiritualist and occult movements of the early 20th century.
To make my collage I first drew two abstract landscapes, one on black paper and one on white paper. I was originally going to do another grid with them, but after seeing Hilma af Klint’s painting, I was inspired to be a bit more adventurous with my cutting and pasting.
Hilma af Klint’s paintings can currently be seen at the Serpentine Galleries in London.
My dream is still. My dream is moving.
The chair on fire. Indigo.
The ending lost. Time disappearing.
My dream is still. My dream is
Silent green. The hand a burning rose.
The empty tree. The moon’s glow.
My dream is still. My dream is moving.
The chair on fire. Indigo.
A response to Marta Shmatava’s painting and Jane Dougherty’s challenge to write a triolet. Mine fudges the form a little, but it’s in the spirit of.
Surrounding me the
reflections in colors blue
and bluer, the light
shines in space that was
destined to instigate my
prism road to blues.
Fractured and spun and
circling around into the
other kinds of song: red
for instance, or light
glowing yellow, and what was
that orange song? Oh my.
Listen: eyes and mind
turning combinations all
colors. Here are my
yearnings. They ask love’s
expansiveness: please take me in
and sing me. Not in vain.
This collage is also a response to Matteo Da Vinci’s “City of Dreams” painting, but it required a different kind of poem. I used Miz Quickly’s prompt for a shovel poem, a form I’ve used before and like a lot.
My source: Robert Johnson’s “Love in Vain”. If you read down the last word in each of the lines of my poem you’ll find two lines from the song:
“…the blue light was my blues, and the red light was my mind
All my love’s in vain”
You can find out more about Robert Johnson here.