inheritance

hands threading needles
accumulating stitches
delicate like wings
flexible strong like branches
like rivers singing
ancient ancestral patterns
releasing through re
peating remembering re
vealing what was always there

seeds growing
anonymous roots
flowering

For Colleen’s #TankaTuesday prompt, a Chōka. Jules provided the theme of discovery.

I come from a family where all the women were textile artists of some sort–sewing, quilting, knitting, crocheting, embroidery–my grandmother even worked as a hat maker before she was married. My mother started me embroidering at a young age, and we did the bird kits, above, together. She loved the color red and cardinals, so that was hers; I stitched the blue bird. And I discovered how much I loved embroidery.

My mother never had the confidence to do her own designs, but always encouraged me in my own explorations. I think of her, and all the women in my family, every time I pick up a needle.

Following the Thread up at Pure Haiku

My haiku “Following the Thread” is posted at Pure Haiku today as part of the Emergence series.  My thanks, as always, to Freya Pickard for supporting my work.

Topology

It was a
wish, a tiny dream,
a maybe,
an if—I
spoke of it, asked for it, looked
for the opening–

I even
prayed (although not
to that god
painted on
the ceilings of cathedrals)–
but gradually,

or perhaps
suddenly–(how our
memories
deceive us)–
it became unspoken, blurred,
a footnote in time,

filed away–
I would come across
it every
once in a
while and wonder, just for a
moment, where I would

be, and what
would be missing in
the map of
me, if fate
had drawn it differently—if
that portal had verged

The subject for dVerse Poetics, hosted by Anmol, is geography.

I originally posted this watercolor last August, when I had just begun the embroidery.  I like the extra dimension added by the stitching.  It’s a slow process, accumulating like the maps of our lives.

 

Spellbound

I draw the Wheel of Fortune. My seasons are indeed turning.  I open maps, searching for a solid place to land.  Dazzled by paths that keep shifting, I am transported with a velocity that blurs the threads that have held me in the landscape my feet have raveled in the circles of my years.  The unknown spills across my limitations, beyond the boundaries traced by time.

Randomness and change
growing wings in transcendence–
radiant shadows

A haibun for Colleen’s #Poetry Challenge #92, using synonyms for bewitch and treasure.

 

I am seeking the sea

Cast and reflected,
pulled by stars in evensong–
enchanted mirror.

Sounds fall unlettered, unversed,
in silence gilding the sky.

For Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday with synonyms for magic and green.

I’ve been embroidering this watercolor mandala for weeks, and even now I’m not sure I’m finished.  I like both the front and the back.

 

Centaurus

This image is a monoprint taken from the background painting I did for one of the other celestial haikus, done over some images from something else (I can’t remember what–I often take leftover paint and drip or press it onto paper, thinking I can use it for something, somehow, later)  As I did for Andromeda, I embroidered the constellation on top.

You can find the haiku for this image at Pure Haiku, here.

(the sound of dripping)

The night was
percussive, breathing
bellows that
mimicked the
humming of the wind, leafless
branches clapping hands–

undreamed hours
counted in measures
unsigned, un
requited,
unoblivioned—sounding
still with unsilence–

doubled bass
drumming in discord,
thundering
dark into
unarranged song–restless air
on endless replay

NaPoWriMo Day 16 asks us to think about playing.  The weather is definitely playing with me today.

When I walked into my work room I was greeted by the sound of dripping…all over my drawing table, all my work and scribbled notes there soaked.  Not surprising that the roof would leak…the wind and rain in the last 12 hours are worse than all the nor’easters we’ve had this year combined.

Not surprising that the internet is cranky, too, but at least the computer didn’t also get wet.  I’ve passed through anger and despair to resignation.  They say they will come and look at the roof when it stops raining.  In the meantime I cranked up the heat and there is paper spread out everywhere…

Home

The crows have followed. The blue jays.  The cardinals.  Voice calling to attention as footsteps sound toward and away from doors.  Penetrating closed windows and the background hum of the construction at the end of the block.  Dark shadows transforming into silhouettes on bare branches not yet convinced of the imminent arrival of spring.

Where is the hawk?

new streets and sidewalks–
winter lingering, chilling–
robin’s morning song

I recently moved 10 blocks north, a whole new blank slate to fill.

People think of cities as not-nature.  But the birds and trees tell me I’m home.

For NaPoWriMo Day 12 haibun prompt, and linked to dVerse prompt Urban Renewal.

Is That a Human Voice? (after Toshikazu Yasumizu)

Mountains circle a city
of women dancing like feathers.
Mountains circle a city
of women dancing like feathers.
Silence embraces the flowing.
Silence embraces the flowing
patterns, bending with the wind.
Turning, repeating, transforming, rising–
silence follows.

Bending with the wind, turning.
Where are the birds?
Repeat and follow.
Bending with the wind, questing.
Opening, questing–
repeat and follow.

Embrace these wings, bending with the wind.
Turning, repeating, transforming, rising–
silence follows.

The NaPoWriMo prompt for day 5 was to take an untranslated poem, pair it with a photo, and make a poem referring to both.  I chose to use one of the artworks I did for this month instead of a photo, and I used a Japanese poem by Toshikazu Yasumizu, “Is That a Human Voice?”, partly because I love the title.  You can see the poem and the translation (which works well with my embroidery also) here.

The embroidery is once again based on a painting by Joan Mitchell.  The calligraphic nature of Japanese writing reminds me a lot of the marks of stitching.

I’m also linking to dVerse open link night.

Accumulations

Praise be
to the tangle,
the dance unraveling
the ending to begin again–
Praise be
to branches outing from deep roots,
the threads that multiply
and intertwine–
Praise be

A butterfly cinquain for Colleen’s tanka Tuesday words, honor and growth.  Also a little carryover from the SpiritSong of yesterday’s post.

And maybe partially on prompt for NaPoWriMo day 4.

In case you’re wondering how I did this piece of art so quickly, 6 months ago I decided to start making art to use for NaPoWriMo.  This is the very first one I did.

All of my artwork for April is based on/inspired by the work of Joan Mitchell.