A few little sketches in the earth tone palette.
This one was calling out for blue so I went for it.
It has been a long week and I am looking forward to the weekend. Have a great one, wherever you are. Here in northern NJ it is looking good (after a huge and thunderous storm this past Tuesday).
Doodling around with my earth tone palette. These faces all look like I feel.
A not so vague discontentment and a worried feeling. Everything seems topsy turvey.
Maybe this one looks a little more settled but not much.
Earth tone palette which is much used and which I enjoy very much.
Demanding patience, spirit grows deep–
nourished and carried near to the heart.
Waiting, waiting, my soul for to keep–
shadows breathing and falling apart.
Nourished and carried near to the heart–
the third eye opens, window and mirror.
Shadows breathing and falling apart–
beginning is singing, ending is near.
The third eye opens, window and mirror–
the ripeness growing, large and complete.
Beginning is singing, ending is near–
emptying follows, head and then feet
The ripeness growing, large and complete–
rocking inside a musical voice.
Emptying follows, head and then feet–
atoms laughing in naked warm noise.
Rocking inside a musical voice–
no thoughts to speak, no dreams to word.
Atoms laughing in naked warm noise–
diving like oceans, skying like birds.
No thoughts to speak, no dreams to word–
demanding patience, spirit grows deep.
Diving like oceans, skying like birds–
waiting, waiting, my soul for to keep.
I don’t normally post twice in the same day, but Jane Dougherty’s pantoum, “It was not a night like this”, reminded me a lot of this one I wrote last year, which was based on a poem I wrote a very long time ago.
I’m also linking it to the dVerse narrative prompt, although I too am not sure it is exactly what Bjorn is looking for.
I’ve never been to Kenya but I have a Kenyan friend, Masela. She was telling me about her country and a line she said “the creatures emerge at night”, said in her wonderful accent, has been rolling around my head. What a wonderful image!
Another rainy and dreary day in NJ. Have a good weekend, friends.
than light—senses unmoiled
by healing waves we cannot see–
veils expanding around the moon,
thrown up and out,
A mirror cinquain for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, using synonyms for fall and try. I love the sound of the word moil, usually used in conjunction with toil to indicate working hard, but with a sense of drudgery. But it comes from Middle English “to make” and can also mean confusion, turmoil (“perhaps tur(n) + moil”, according to dictionary.com) or to whirl endlessly.
A good word to consider when reading the news…
We’ve been having an ant problem because of the damp weather. The other day my daughter sent me a picture of ants congregating on a dropped potato chip. She thought it was gross. I thought it was cool.
Here’s the photo, magnified a little bit.
I’ve been working longer hours later and I don’t have a good studio space due to giving my daughter my art room and my husband being a paper hoarder. I also can’t really draw at work any more due to it being a “real” job i.e. my boss isn’t my husband any more. But I will try harder.
Marianne Szlyk, at “the song is…” has posted 3 of my poems with accompanying artwork as part of her tribute to musicians born in the 50s. The Prince and Police-inspired work appeared on the blog, but the Stevie Wonder-inspired art and poem are new.
She also has some wonderful musical links at the bottom of the post (as she always does), and I’d just like to quote from Stevie, first from the song “As”, and then from his words, spoken before he sang that song at Aretha Franklin’s Homegoing service.
“Change your words into truths
And then change that truth into love”
“Let’s make LOVE great again”
Thanks, Marianne, for featuring my work, and for your continuing support of music, art, and words.
You can see the post here.
Dreaming of brightness–
in parallel lines we walk silent,
our unshadowed bodies
like paper cutouts against the night sky.
In parallel lines we walk silent–
there are truths, but we prefer to bend them.
Like paper cutouts against the night sky,
we can no longer define our direction.
There are truths, but we prefer to bend them
and let them grow unattended.
We can no longer define our direction
or what we mean when we say the word “why?”
Our unshadowed bodies
stand still as the world spins onward–
we do not know where or how, but we are
dreaming of brightness.
Another pantoum, with some fan shaped paper I found online. Another aspect of the circle.