Posted in Art, Poetry

Ever Land

Ever Land

What do we do now, now that we are happy? —-Samuel Beckett

I got lost in the brush
and need a match
to burn the bramble in my heart.

Please paint my face
a vivid blue
for falling in love
with you.
And match the lips
the same turquoise
and Ill leave tracks
across the desert valley.

Follow me... I don’t deserve
forgiveness or a lengthy song
for ever believing
in this wrong
just remember black as black is
black drawn down my back
your tense smile, found
as fortune approaches.
Posted in Photography, Poetry

My heart is a corridor


I cannot seem to walk past a door
lonely, in the pursuit of time
the wind’s impatient brush with forever

we stood in the hollow
bodies carved from sharpened rock
and painted yellow
the dim-lighted blackened space

You obviously see me
spared the chance of fading out
the rain washes our conscience clean.

Posted in Photography, Poetry

patient times

i long laid down my pencil
liberated from reckless love
my pining heart grew
for grassy meadows
and sun lit skies
of opulent hues.

Something beautiful to focus
the agony of the world
relinquished to peaceful calm.

Posted in Musings, Poetry

buzzing… trying again

Summer 2018

I am…
Absolutely disorganized.
Fundamentally curious.
Passionately involved with life…

love spins around me
pinned to my dress
notice his black and yellow
swaggered heart?

——–

Hey! I am still here. Certainly that statement is unbelievable to me. And since this happens to be an old blog post I unpublished, and republishing for any number of reasons, I wonder what you have been up to? With me, who the hell knows. I certainly do not have a clue as to where my life is heading. Well, i kinda do.

A photo montage of my vintage button and 1950’s fabric collection. Merrigold. Marmalade. Ginger. Clay. Olive. Seaweed. Pine. Tawny. Carob. Coffee. Metal Honey. Flaxen. Mmmm… metal honey.

My mother told me as a child I was born in the wrong era. Is that even possible? Perhaps she meant wrong world. Which possibly explains the significant interest in UFO’s by treasured friends and others.

Seriously though, why are any of us here? The answer for me is not to sell books. Or become published. Other than supporting WP to have others peer into my mind, what is there? Keep up if you can. Tomorrow is not so far away.

Do not turn that radio dial. You are not lost. I AM.

Posted in Poetry, Quilting

handmade

Ohio Buckeye 4/2020 (my latest completed quilt, gifted)

there are no
cohesive thoughts left
to talk about, except

scrap fabric
sewn together
makes for a great quilt, so

we both indulge
the textured landscape
lips sewn tight

********************

The last quilt (see below) I completed before the Ohio Buckeye quilt (above) was for the Children’s Circle Preschool I worked at from 2004-2006. I miss the kiddos. They brought me such joy.

Reading Rug 2004 (the trees crinkle, like rustling leaves, when touched)

I hope to finish a few more quilts in my lifetime. They bring me pleasure to make and give away. To commemorate my Astralorp chicks arriving on June 1, I started a Chicken Collage quilt. The first block is done.

Chicken Collage block one
(finished date tbd)