Illustrations and images
shows surfaces of pastel or oil ~
breathing deep with emotion
makes real a meaning of the heart
that the artist did not intend.
What your heart sees and
what my heart sees are
as different as each brush
stroke, each shaded colour
on blank canvas or page.
“We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.”
~ Anais Nin, author
Curves wrap through the air
invisible, sneaky
until one day,
without warning
life tosses one
~ or more ~
of those curves.
Just life testing our mettle.
“We’re not given a good life or bad life.
We’re given a life.
It’s up to us to make it good or bad.”
~ Karen Salmansohn, author
Illumination of the morning
slips between the threads
of the curtain til it gently
disturbs the dreams of the night.
The chitter of birds rides
each ray of light til I rub
the sleep from my eyes to
greet the morning with a yawn.
There is little more until I rise
to open the day before me.
“It’s morning, and again I am that lucky person who is in it.”
~ Mary Oliver
Inspired by the poetry of Mary Oliver
Lingering on the sidewalk,
I saw them smiling up at me,
sunshine faces as a cloud blanket
misted the morning light.
“Why hurry over beautiful things?
Why not linger and enjoy them?
~ Clara Schumann, musician
(1819 - 1896)
 |
| September, 2013 |
Playing in the grass
always takes me
back to the farm.
Croquet hoops set up ~
targets for our deadly aim for
wooden balls hit with mallets
striped with green or red.
Taking an old pink quilt
to the tall grass between
stunted trees to read while
the sun dappled the pages.
Just walking house to barn,
or the garden or out to the
dugout. Not the grass of
parks groomed and green.
Tough, spiky grass that grew
despite the dry and the heat of
summer ~ determined to be.
“Childhood is the one story that stands by itself in every soul.’
~ Ivan Doig, author and novelist
(1939 ~ 2015)
Margins of red ink
scribbled all around
the neat black ink
marching line by line
up and down the page
Notes to self about
spelling, ideas, focus,
qualities, punctuation
later to be woven into
the 400th manuscript.
“What I want are words that
reflect my heart, not my cleverness.”
~ Hugh Prather, Notes to Myself:
My Struggle to Become a Person
 |
Initials carved
on a tree trunk
~ loving scars
the tree never forgets.
“Trees are as close to immortality as the rest of us ever come.”
~ Karen Joy Fowler,
(author of the Jane Austen Book Club)
