Posted in Art, Music Video, Poetry

Winter Garden

sordid gazing globe
friends gather round
high noon hours
now gone

reflecting pools, moon aglow
Mad King Ludwig
starts the ball, whirling
gowns, curtsy and bow.

Wagner’s Faust resounds
sounds of mythic status
suicide pacts
dangerous acts

pertaining to the devil
who but shows
along with God
a gavel.

Rose petals
shower the floor
steps ever so

gently, is what she wants
reminds him
who she is
doesn’t have to be all.

God, so assured
alone, He waits
for a knock at the door
never sleeps, evermore.

footsteps creep
ever closer, she approaches
with trepidation
fear rests in her throat

winter garden
friend us now
give us faith to trust
forgiveness, reconciliation
bring forth good
gifts to bring my lover
shower him with grace.

ekphrasis poem explained

Posted in Art, Memoir, Musings, Photography, quotes, Random, Soul Journal, travel

Teeth. Dig In.

Those who do not want to imitate anything, produce nothing. Dali

Plans change. We say one thing and do another. Does that make us hypocrites? Liars? We strive and fail. Damned fools? Or simply tired?

Today, there are no planned adventures until after 2pm (US Eastern Time), where upon we will venture out to St. Petersburg to visit the largest collection of Salvador Dali’s art, outside of Spain.

I don’t do drugs. I am drugs. Dali

Yesterday was a visit to see my Aunt Jeani, Uncle Don, and first, second and now third cousins, in Venice FL. We have not seen each other in 43 years. Last time we visited my cousin Stevie was 12, Tammi 6. My aunt and uncle struck oil in the 1960’s, on their farm in Illinois, and the family took off for California, finally settling in Florida, where they set-up a halfway house for homeless and drug abusers. My aunt and uncle have saved countless people from themselves. And now Tammi is ordained and carries on the halfway home. Some of the patients end back on the street, but those who are determined, find new life, and a reason to live. We had lots to celebrate over a wonderful meal.

What is our life calling? To save ourselves or find life’s oft hidden truths saving others?

Visiting often means reminiscing. My cousin Tammy told us as kids her and Stevie and Sherry would fill buckets full of shark teeth at Venice’s beaches. With hugs and kisses goodbye, after a too short of a visit, our family headed to Caspersan Beach to search for shark teeth.

Our arrival greeted us with a painted shoreline lined with eager seekers. Not a gold rush but a rush to unearth something that is now rarer to find. A storied shark tooth. Every one with me gave up rather quickly, except my oldest daughter.

There was no guarantee her or I would find a tooth. In all those grains of sand, time passes, and often hope of fulfillment. The picture above is my determination paying off.

I wrestled with my husband, son and youngest daughter wanting to leave. But i stuck it out, digging my feet in deeper. It was the turning over that brought up the tooth.

Each of us is worn ragged. Thoughts lodged in crags. The rocks jutting into and between the lines of our existence. Who wins out in the end?

I have no scars to prove yesterday happened. I possess a tooth and a prayer to survive.

Happy writing, J🦈Still Life Fish with Red Bowl Dali<<<<

Posted in Art, Poetry

Salvador Dali “Apparition of Face and Fruit Dish on a Beach” 1938

Living in two worlds
a saint, enamored with good deeds
kicked out of eden
the chalice empty of water
sin flowed and sprouted heresy.

Angels surround
flickering light
deciphering day and night
unwelcome, she wandered
the barren fields of old.

The taste lied on her tongue
her legs slanted towards the sun
beguiled by stars and dancing
he appeared, eyes drawn
naked and cold, she lay exposed.

Angels surround
flickering light
deciphering day and night
unwelcome, she wandered
the barren fields of old.

Posted in Art, Poetry

To know me

Not that you need to know me
who am I to be known?
just another woman, abruptly sewn
into the fragments of your life.
I wonder, am I the thread
or the cut scraps of cloth?

Sitting, I ponder the sound of the
machine, taking my hands hostage.
I forget the texture that
ran through my fingers, just yesterday
or so it seems we met, unconventionally.
The melting clock of time.

the-persistence-of-memory   Dali
The Persistence of Memory 1931

I currently am enrolled in a Mixed Media art class to incorporate my words into pictures and looking at journal entries from November 21, 2015 I notice a mind set very different than I am feeling today and thought Salvador Dali’s famous clocks fit within my feeling.

What do you think? I admit I was not much a fan of surrealism before I took this class. At first glance, I am turned away from the starkness of unconscious thought. I admit it stokes fear in my mind. The loss of control. Then, because when I write, I am often in a dream state, an unconscious dig into my soul, I began to see the surrealist artist’s depiction in visual form, as a necessary evil. Evil? What is real is often painful to look towards but it also evokes a sense of power. The artist is able to control personal thoughts with words, materials and action. They put into motion a solution or at least present a riddle to solve.