Posted in Photography, Poetry
You hear what they say
without them saying a word
by the looks on their faces

all their thoughts swirling in you
carrying the weight of this world
waiting for your turn

to howl at the moon
a grin embraced by solitude
and stars glimmering in blue eyes.
Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Not quite May

Waiting on Shore.
The tide 
heading towards the unknown
carries me out to sea.

Once monthly i feel an urge to connect with others. And explore the foolish thoughts dancing in my head. Picking up rocks is a favorite past time and i miss this place dearly. I miss you too.

Its not quite May. So technically i am rushing this posting. But conventional wisdom alludes me. Ive been jumping off the railroad tracks the past six months. And diving into drained ponds. With summer months approaching, im praying for rain to refill these dry bones.

What have you been doing with time?

Posted in Musings, Poetry

Twelve Years and Counting

Twelve Years…….and counting?

Hard to believe 12 years has come and gone.

Im not much with words lately. So this post remains brief. Praying for peace to prevail in the world. My faith has staggered for so long. My feet wobbly, my heart faint. I hope you are well. As well as you possibly can be in the midst of what our eyes see. And our ears hear the words so freely flow…. What do any of those words even mean anymore?

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry
Coffee and thoughts shroud me.
The leaves
all fallen to the ground
except one.

golden leaf dangles
the dulled scissors make a way
potent thoughts preserved


The wonderment of stored thoughts
written on that lone leaf left;
collected nutrients to carry my body
through the winter months.

This picture was taken over a month ago, from my writing room, as electric company trucks rolled down our street, trimming lofty branches. This process of trimming secures our light for when snowfall or winds threaten to leave us in the dark.

I was working indoors, on my vision board, cutting out images. This process of scissoring magazines is a muse to a dormant mind. Freedom stands out as the most impactful map Ive drawn. To follow the freedom trail, entails not second-guessing any element of this vision. But rather flowing with the river’s current.

At the same time as my vision board, I put together a gratitude collage, on the other side. It feels wonderful to know where Ive been. It helps me realize that despite bad feelings, there exists hope.

And since I am superstitious, I won’t be posting any pictures of the boards. Lest my prayers fall short of the outcome.

Posted in Art, Musings, Poetry

My blog got me through

Watercoloring. 2021

Connecting with others here on WordPress saved me from utter destruction. And for that i am grateful. And in the process, i have returned to my first love. Creating is my lifeline and my grace to get me through to the other side.

Working Out my Angst. 2021

Growing up i was denied every aspect of self for the greater good. And as much as i love my family, to neglect myself was detrimental in the long run. I lost my brother to suicide. And i still have trouble understanding that relationship. We were very close growing up. Until we drifted apart. Friends until high school, when his sudden budding interest in girls, sparked a fissure.

I will never fully understand suicide. The thoughts of doing away with self, once gripped me too. For thirty some years i thought it through. Jumping from second-story windows, holding my breath under pillows, imaging myself driving the car off a bridge, and holding a knife to my neck while talking to my therapist. I had my ideas. Pills and razors, ropes hanging from rafters. They all presented peace of mind.

I have wandered through the ensuing fog. I have spent countless nights in tears. I sacrificed myself for the greater good all while dying a slow death.

I started practicing art in recent years. Whether photography, watercolor, acrylics, textiles, or garden seeds, i have found my inner sense of life. In my poetic words i have tried to let you see a bit more of what stirs inside. And even though i am unable to practice my first love, dance, i found a place to move internally.

So take your bow. 
See me stand before light.
You saved a life.
In disguise. 2021

Please do not use any of my photos without my permission. Thank you.

To John. 3/1/2008.
Posted in Photography, Poetry

I look out the window, unto a world unknown to me. The colors vibrant and beautiful. The stillness broken by song.

Come sit with me a while. Let us stare into the distance a little longer. And wonder what went wrong.

Posted in Photography, Poetry

Meaningful Gibberish

Talk to Me (October 2021)
toward the celebration of human life 
as a path to transcendence
i skip past Beethoven
land on middle C

swing past his open mouth
dance with clenching teeth
directed at my absurdity

our meaningful gibberish
we only understand
the moans escape the metal bars
i lie down beside the piled cloth

stained with gilded tears
teach me forgiveness afterwards
when a hush descends upon bended knees
Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Lay my Heart Down

Lay my heart down
and weep
what little time remains
I give it all
to you
the gift of all beauty
hidden from human eyes.
You are only fed to eager souls.

I won’t be gone long. How can I keep myself from being amongst all this grandeur?

I did a little beach cleanup. I hiked miles. I painted. I wrote. Nothing here keeps me from living. Everything here pushes me to go further. The seals and loons. The cawing of crow friends. A shy heron perched as if wind was nonexistent.

The waves rush in with new gifts of sea glass. The waves recede into the greater good. The flow of sea amends all the broken pieces of life.

Be well love, until I return.

Always, Jeanne

Posted in Photography, Poetry

xxxxxx

Cant say i believe 
the words
spilling
from contraptions of reality
more digital than heart

the love is farce

and wounds bleed
while you step in line.
To listen to you
akin to the first

fire
shot.

Love has become cheap tequila
in an unsalted rim.
Posted in Photography, Poetry

sea glass rising

Eastport, Maine
Can you know this feeling
peering underneath blue
hollow bones trapped in bearded wrecks

seashell words
smashed beneath waves

gutted hearts
tangled, twisted ‘round our legs.

Who dare put out our fire
feet ensnared with desire
upon this sandcastle built?

Come find me washed ashore
waiting for your adore
disappearing…

yet some more
sea glass rising.

Yet some more
sea glass… rising from the dead
we dance together at last.