Sunday, 30 January 2011

Sunday Features - 30/01/2011 - Different Worlds

My theme for this week are the different worlds we live in – not the ones everyone can see, but the inner worlds. This was inspired by Kristin’s fabulous image. I have to admit I felt attracted to this image in part because of it’s title. It’s something that a character says in one of my favourite books – Jack in The Dark Tower by Stephen King – and it was always one of those lines that stuck with me.

There are other worlds than these by © Kristin Reynolds

There are other worlds than these by © Kristin Reynolds

The next poem I chose because it’s so in contrast with the acceptance of Kristin’s poem – someone still trying to find ‘their’ world.

My voice by © SFlora

Sometimes i feel like im wedded to passivity
I have shed many skins
To be reborn
From myself
From within
But this ingrained
Trained behaviour
Seems embedded in my brain
I dont camplain
Or wont complain
But should
Not be a slave to the system
To uncontracted duties that demean
Till my dreams become
To distant to recall
And remain unseen
For fear of the fall
Of unimagined consequenses
Where is the choice in this
When the option is
Automatically erased
And the thought censored
And why does my strength vanish
When i need it most
When the suit is boss
My voice is a ghost
And i am lost
In the tension
Between where i am
And where i want to be
Who i am
And who i could be
The longer i stay
The more i know
That i dont belong
In places where ticking of clocks
Are in sync with hearts beats

The next image with it’s vintage feel reminded me of ‘lost worlds’, the times that have gone and it’s nice to remember them too.

My First Pearls by © jacqleen
My First Pearls by © jacqleen

I couldn’t resist this poem by Kristin. There’s something so timeless about it and I am still thinking about what it all means.

Of a Wingless Bird by © Kristin Reynolds

I do not remember you;
I am like a thousand feathers
each flying in the other direction.

Nothing is relative here.

Here, relativity grows cherubs
like rain keeps on bringing
heaven new pails of tears.

is thousands of days
all in the span of one breath—
the same time it takes
to erect a new galaxy
in the belly
of a miracle man.

I walk to the garden
a dirty orchid—
hands covering my face;
I run from the willow,
a grove:

when sun sets its eye
upon the earth,
all it sees
is love.

There is a radio tower
of fluted glass
riding the top of my
it is filled
with two thousand wings
trying to make sense
of the moon—

while each wingless bird
holds their tongues in place
with rich golden apples;

while Polaris makes a nest
in the watchtower
made of hummingbird down.

Sometimes I see
all of this happening,
and whistle a tune in the dark—

until the bodiless feathers
are still,

and the apples
rise up
to the top.

This image caught my eye because the colours and composition are arresting. Another world… one gone mad and possibly bad.

 Enfant terrible! by © FilleDeLEau

And here’s the perfect match in Rhonda’s poetry…

Don’t You Say I Told You So by © restlessd

I think back on those past times.
I know I did commit those crimes.
They were so very long ago.
I’ve served my time, please let them go.

Yet you still hold them in front of me.
No day goes by where you see just me.
In your eyes I am not true.
I’ll never be good enough for you.

It is as if I am still jailed.
My heart & soul have been impaled.
My wounds did heal but left a scar,
A constant reminder is what you are.

Can we ever just start over?
Can I stop looking over my shoulder?
Will we ever let the past be gone?
Won’t you let me forget my wrongs?

You smile that smile I know says NO.
In your eyes the scorn does show.
In your heart you won’t let go.
Don’t you say I told you so.
I have to leave now, I must go.
Don’t you say I told you so.

The next image is about the people that make our world and help us ‘hold it together’. I’ve loved this image since it first appeared in my image stream.

 If I had no place to fall by © madworld
Here’s a different kind of world, a world where wishes might come true and I haven’t quite decided if this would be a good world to be in or not. See what you think….

My Wish For You by © Tracy Faught

I wish for you to feel my presence when I’m not there, like a blanket that wraps you up in a sweet heat.
I wish you dreams of joy that I have renderd by once whispering into your ear,long ago.

I wish for the forgetfulness of your pain and a rememberance of me when something makes you smile. I wish for your mouth to water when the thought of a kiss can bring back your passion, and the recovery of the taste of me on your lips.

I wish for your dreams to be kind and that the lover in them is me, even when your with another, I wish for you to not forget the feel of all that is my body…I wish for you not to compare the sensation aloud, but to relish it’s memory, silently, deeply, sinfully, exquisitley…all to yourself so that I’m with with you unkown to whomever your loving.
I wish omnipotence over all your carnal knowledge. I wish to be all your sins when I’m not around.

I wish to be held in your hand, and touched in memory. I wish to be the salt you lick away from the efforts of love, the concentration of thought and the daily grind of life.
I wish to be the sweat that rolls off your lip, caught by your tongue.

I wish to be the button always pushed that can make your heart race and the sensation that makes your body yearn, I want to be the pleasurable pain you feel when your begging for release.
I wish to be the memory that haunts you, causing you to wonder why…why did all that pass away?

I wish to not be forgotten, so I send these wish’s out as a dark prayer every night, from the depths of my bed, cold and deep. I wish for you to hear my voice from so far away. I won’t be any more forgotten than I already am, and if my wishes are granted, than I never could be.

I just couldn’t resist this image. I love the depth of colour and the subject.

Love Hurts (Like Hell) by © strawberries

Nikki’s poem shows the kind of hurt and pain we go through in those worlds that no one sees…

Doldrums Drams and Drudgery by © Nikki Ella Whitlock

Enough enough doldrums drams, and drudgery, my limbs are heavy with non-compliance, And my mind is bursting it seems, with words and images, its composed calmness a folio of offloading, I overflow, I navigate winding worm holes throughout life’s general mishmash, “it’s a mixed bag” they say “and the spice of life” but there’s no heavy petting, keep you head down, and cleverly disguise your misdemeanours in labels, groups and genres, an assemblage of misfits are we, enough enough, I’m so weary.

Enough enough sighs, shams and spitfires, this mortal needs peace, just a small a piece of land to twirl and sing with conviction, I’m occupied with the woods and rivers and I can no longer contain myself in, brick, metal and wire, society’s heavy bulkhead of fortification, sucking the air. Terra firma calls me, claiming my lungs and loins with spores and pollen, planting seeds in my mind and womb, its blissful abandonment. Social order is in disarray, and I’m going under, I rage, I rampage, quietly, on the face of things, a smile for a while, it appears to be slipping, enough enough I’m fading.

Enough enough, vandals, voids and vampires, they suck drain and bewilder, leaving me broken, forlorn and empty, I’m fighting for who I am, but not sure what that is yet, the only sense I make, is a breeze on a tree, it whispers to me, “come home”, I have a burning in the heart of me, that matter doesn’t matters, it just expresses who resides inside, we are socially chastised and constrained and I yearn for pastures new, lush greens, burnt umbers and soft mellow, it travels to the eye so swift and calms the psyche, leaving self behind, a friend in kind and comfort, enough enough no more I’m already gone…

But back to life and what it can be and should be when you’re starting out. Again, a vintage feel but with a totally different look and seemingly a different world altogether.

 Remember Paris …. by © Berns

Finally, this poem by lovelyrita. Worlds colliding? Justice? Revenge? I am not sure. I just know I loved it when I read it, there’s something compelling about it that makes you think and wonder…

Peek-A-Boo by © lovelyrita

I see you
you’re off in the water,
in your boat fashioned of lies

I see you
up and down
each wave a new surprise

I see you
headed for an iceberg,
a cold, hard

I see you
one hand on the life preserver,
the other on your itch

I see you
stranded in the sea
but you don’t see me.

I hope you enjoyed these Sunday features and congratulate all the lovely artists without whom RB wouldn’t be what it is. :-)

Wednesday, 26 January 2011

Midweek Features - 26/01/2011 - Just because...

Today’s features are ‘just because’ as there’s no theme. The art and writing just caught my eye and so here they are. :-)

There’s something special about this image. I love the colours and the delicacy of the lines and textures, but also the subject – the masks we wear…

masquerade, 2008 by © Thelma Van Rensburg
masquerade, 2008 by © Thelma Van Rensburg

and the secrets we keep. I love the way the poem reaches out. Sometimes poetry really is the only way to express those feelings we have to hide from plain sight.

Secrets by © lisameryl

If you knew how much I care
longing to confess everything
there’s so much I want to share

I can never speak your name
nor the feelings in my heart
aware you’ll never feel the same

It’s far from love yet
you and I are dear friends
for we’ve recently just met

I feel a deep connection
my soul is drawn to yours
I’m filled with much affection

You’re on my mind everyday
to hold and kiss you
would be like Christmas in May

I’m aware we’ll never be more
but with every passing moment
these feelings burn me to the core

I may be strong and brave
but there are some secrets
one must take to the grave

The bright colours and the flow of this painting just caught my eye.

Destiny by © Ming Myaskovsky
Destiny by © Ming Myaskovsky

I love the sensuality of this poem, the ebb and flow and somehow Ming’s painting and PJ’s poem seem to flow together…

lunar tides by © ShadowDancer

when the suns gold
gives its last flash
across our bed,
like a nuclear bomb
in reverse,
the moon stands above us,
white luna holding heaven together
supporting the sky,

you loom above me
dark over light

my body is your moon
holding heaven inside of us

night begins as
your body crashes slowly
into me,
my luna spirit
hearkening your deep ocean

I beg for you to unleash
a thousand floods inside of me
drown the world
drown us
drown me

with you
I am no longer
your waters move
in rhythm to my heartbeat
and sink the ghosts ships
that were clinging to my skin

your ocean is the pulse
of my silent pull

and as your tidal wave dissipates,
there is now a calming,
my moon sinks into its own horizon…
we drift together
into the sky, across the earth

you rest into me
dark over light

Okay, this is a bit of a turn to the ‘other side’, however life and death lie close together…

Marie-Antoinette’s Nightmare by © VenusOak

and another turn about, from nightmares to dreams we cherish. I certainly have had dreams like that.

I Wish I May, I Wish I Might….. by © LauraBroussard

I wish I may,
I wish I might,
have the dream,
I dreamt last night.

Deep, deep sleep,
which carries me over….
to a place of unknown wonders.

I wish I may,
I wish I might,
have the dream,
I dreamt last night.

Flying through the air,
pulsing my arms,
to go up there.

I wish I may,
I wish I might,
have the dream,
I dreamt last night.

Kissing that person,
strange as it seems,
oh well,.......
it was just a dream.

I wish I may,
I wish I might,
have the dream,
I dreamt last night.

Beneath me now,
a world.
Beneath me now,
a new world……..............

I wish I may,
I wish I might,
have the dream,
I dreamt last night :))

From nightmares and dreams to the way we see ourselves. I find self portraits fascinating, especially in a group like ours. It’s so interesting to see the way we view ourselves – the things we have in common and the things we don’t – and this is a particulalry beautiful image.

Untitled by © Cate Legnoverde (no longer availabe on Redbubble)
Untitled by © Cate Legnoverde

LovelyRita’s poem is a self portrait in the form of a poem. It caught my eye because it was so honest and true and we all struggle with the way we change towards age. How odd it is to see the outside change, when inside we’re still the way we were and then we look in the mirror and we feel we don’t recognise the person looking back… and then there’s the issue of the way woman are potraited in the media… don’t get me started!

White Girl by © lovelyrita

I am white like her
But my nose is longer
My flaws are more defined
Far more circles than lines

My figure is a maze
Too rough to finish –
Even gaze at
Unlike her streamlined form
She’s perfect weather, I’m a storm
I know this

I am white like her
But not as bright as her
I have brown hair too
And my eyes are blue
But her hair is silk and fine
Nothing like mine
which is coarse
and short
and breaking
resembling my lifeline
gradually flaking off,
unlike the creases below my eyes

She has none, of course

And no matter how I try
I will never look like her

This image caught my eye immediately when it appeared in my image stream, it impressed me so much I asked Jacqleen to submit it to the group. There’s something so ‘wild’ for want of a better word, something so raw about it… deeply touching.

Filth... by © jacqleen

Shar’s poem just fits the feeling in the image perfectly. Some peope indeed…

Provoked by © autumnwind

unleashed once more
your bitter acerbic insolence
warp and sabotage
the integrity of good intent

you linger way too long
upon the self indulgent
banal enhancement
of your own delusional ego

are you not aware
of the wall
you have so steadfastly erected?

my anger turns to pity
I see the true colors
of which your eyes have been deprived

it is YOU
the handicapped
despite your perfect mind and body

it is YOU
the afflicted
despite your exemplary life

you cannot see
beyond your fabricated barricade
you cannot swim the moat
polluted with the excrement of your
thoughtless, self-serving
self absorbed uncharitable convictions

you make me scream in silence

Finally, Helene’s strong image about what a ‘man’s world’ has done to the world…

Capicu! by © helene ruiz
 Capicu! by © helene ruiz

... and MoonSpiral rediscovering her writing roots. I am glad she did. :-)

Chasing the Mystery by © MoonSpiral

Tonight I’m reading Milton and Keats,
Eliot and Yeats,
trying to siphon off the secret.
No one else has dreamed of it.
I know it’s there….
hidden in plain sight.
This is my elevated goal tonight.

I must find the mystery.
Unravel it to shreds.
I will make it old and weary,
until the mystery is dead.

Bleary-eyed hunger
sinking into my root.
I am beginning to wonder
if it was that religious fruit
that soured me to what I have become.
Half ready to be numb.
Half ready to be alive.

“But why?”
said the little beetle
rolling around on my chest.
He is now completely fetal.
It happens to the best.

And the un-rational
are so full of passion.
While the wise no longer
stand at attention.

It makes no sense.
It was never meant to.
That is the mystery.

But I digress
into memories of you.
It is a wretched reverie.

I am losing sight of my goal.
My dreams are even less drastic,
somewhat similar to plastic.

So we wave our white flags
of surrender.
While screaming at those
who remember.

I am older than I was.
And soon,
it will again be September.
And the moon,
so full and luminous,
will wane once more.

Where do I go?
Now that my neck is sore
and my eyes are dry
and reddened.

I could just go to bed.
Try again tomorrow
and tomorrow…
and tomorrow…

Chasing the mystery
into the halls of joy
and the seas
of sorrow.

I hope you enjoy these ‘Just because’ features. :-)

Saturday, 22 January 2011

"The Flaw In Women" Pink Panther Sunday Features 23/1/11

The features today are inspired by the wonderful image from NumandisArt entitled A Woman’s Worth
With the image comes a poem, extolling the virtues of women, and the poem ends with the lines…

So, the features today are a reminder of the strengths that we posses, even in dire and extreme circumstances.

I apologise to all our writers that all the features are art this week. There were so many strong and powerful images that I had chosen twelve before I had realised. Next week I will choose twelve writers. Promise!!

a woman’s worth… by © NumandisArt

Melancholy, by Marlies Odenhal moved me. The pain and pathos on her face portrays so well the whole feelings of melancholy or sadness, and my heart went out to all our sisters who suffer from this. I also felt that the image simultaneously shows the strength that is inside, and enables us to get through and survive. Beautifully created using rich and passionate colours.

Melancholy by © Marlies Odenhal
Melancholy, by Marles Odenha

Deja Vu by the talented Dorina Costras also gives the feeling of sadness and time passing by. Once again however, the same feeling of strength below the surface. Beautifully painted in warm and subtle colours we are left in no doubt that this woman has been in this situation before, and will be there agin – but that she is strong and will triumph is not in doubt.

It is so great to see the art of Helene Ruiz in the feature gallery again. Helen is one of the most original and powerful artists that I have come across. In Hey, What’s the big idea we see a familiar theme of life being a game in which all the odds are stacked against us. The Joker at the top of the image smiling at his own mischief, looks downwards, master of all he surveys. But I can hear Helene responding with ” well, that what he thinks!”

Alice! Is that you!! In Da Bronx!!??
is self explanatory. Like all of her other work is is brimful with symbolism. It exudes life, love, disaster, renewal. I simply love it.

Alice! Is dat you!! In Da Bronx!!?? by © helene ruiz

Got Doubt by Anji Johnston explores the substance of doubt. It captured me, because we all doubt ourselves at times, and here, Anji made me feel that we do in fact have a choice to embrace the positives or the negatives. We are the mistress of our own destiny. I love it.

Got Doubt? by © Anji Johnston

A second feature for Marlies Odenhal with her amazing image Frankfurt Underground. It is a deeply atmospheric image showing the streetwalkers of the city. Thestreetwalkers are hazy and ill defined – but so powerful at the same time. It made me stop and reflect on the inner strength these women must need to survive the work day after day.

Frankfurt Underground by © Marlies Odehnal

The powerful image by Selkie entitled Dumb is another moving and strong image from her “Deaf, Dumb and Blind” series. This one is so powerful, and together with the others in the series, reminds us of the pain involved in not speaking out, not seeing and not hearing or understanding. Foe Selkie, this was, I think, a personal series, based on her experiences, but is stood out for me as an analogy for all the feminists who have found the strength and courage not to become deaf, blind or dumb about their own situations.

Dumb by © Selkie

And she sold home remedy medicine at the market
by madworld
is a wonderful image of an older woman, with all her life experience shining through. Again, a great example of the indomitable spirit of so many women. I love it.

The strength of women once again shines through the fabulous image Mother’s Love – Varanasi
by Tatum Wulff
In all Tatum’s travel photos we catch the most intimate glimpses of the lives of women in societies where life is hard. The women show a strength and depth that makes us want want to celebrate their courage.

Mother’s Love – Varanasi by © by © Tatum Wulff (image no longer on Redbubble)

by Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell
is a great image, full of hope and determination. In Geraldine’s words, “There is something deep inside that longs to just surrender, let the struggle and self consciousness go”
I think we can all relate to that. A beautiful image.

Surrender by © Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

by Ming Myaskovsky
is an image of a woman that seems to express femininity and also determination. It expresses beauty, hope, vulnerability and strength. I love it.

Kasumi by © Ming Myaskovsky

Wednesday, 19 January 2011

Skin Deep - Midweek Features 19/01/2011

There’s some amazing writing and art out there – meaningful and deep. I thought it deserves a special feature.

So without further ado…

...Mizuna’s soulful image.

Sorrow waste by © miruna uzdris

Sorrow waste by © miruna uzdris

Followed by Kristin’s mythical mystical poem.

Donum Dei by © Kristin Reynold

Her love is a wheel set in motion
with hands
that were never
her own.

Each spoke speaks
with regardless clear eyes
and black
velveteen ears

and before words
spoke softly
of movement,
there were chests
born of Rune shields
and The Enoch’s
one-way horns.

With each turn
she is moving
in place

in a space
far too tight for her nest,
her rats nest of laborious breath—

only more than enough
in her mind;
past her breast and her
skin born of crystalline frost
under winter’s
hungry-eye moon.


There is a small something
stirring her motions—
her blood towards
heaven once more;

steeling her cart towards rest,

where love
will be


Sometimes the piercings are on the outside, sometimes on the inside…

Pierced I by © Kallena Kucers (no longer available on Redbubble)

Pierced I by © Kallena Kucers shown here by Cynthia… This poem started the whole idea of ‘skin deep’ as a theme for the features.

mute by © Cynthia Lund Torroll

Self acknowledged since seventeen,
though more imposed than chosen,
it’s been nothing of a quiet life.

That first wave forgiven
because unawares are, well, unawares -
(even herself)
and secondly, why add to the noise?

(pencils all sharpened)

That actually became comical -
the glaring eyes and cries for help -
point blank
in your face
“Nice frame” a response.

Rinse/repeat. Rinse/repeat.

Later, much later,
all the words she’d been craving
covered her like the warmest blanket ever sewn
holding her suspended
holding her
holding her

Nine years of hold,
but not a day went by without hope
that she’d be given voice again.

And finally, without seconds to spare, soul dangling -
a channel appeared.
Happy turns of nouns and verbs – hour after hour.

She dove in.
Heart first.
Head second.

She’s quieted again.
Plug pulled.
Powered down.

(but her pencils are sharper than ever…)

This caught my eye because pretense is what we do? Isn’t it?

And here’s the question we should be asking.

Making a difference by © mnkreations

The question was posed: “What does it mean to ‘make a difference?’”

My reply is : Making a difference can have several implications good and bad. Most people, myself included, embrace making a difference as a means of changing the outlook, standing, or circumstances of others in a positive and constructive way either directly or indirectly, in an obvious or discrete way.

Most often change is made when there is an apparent or urgent need but, shouldn’t making a difference be more than a reaction to an immediate need? Shouldn’t making a difference be an ongoing, continual, present state of mind?

Shouldn’t making a difference, in the long run , be our way of life?

And so we go deeper into the soul with Shadowlea’s image.

eye of the soul by © shadowlea

eye of the soul by © shadowlea

Here’s a word I had to look up. LOL Apparently it means a positive belief or optimism. Correct me if I am wrong!

aisiodoxia by © RC deWinter


the thing with feathers,
the jewel in the box,
the glass half full,
the hopeful heart carries these and more
imprinted ineradicably
well beyond the surface of the spirit’s sanctum.
they share a spark, these things,
that only death can douse
and even then,
methinks that death’s merely the next
great adventure
in an endless loop of life:
life in countless colors,
fierce and frail forms,
spiraling passages to kaleidoscopic planes
of incarnation.
hope never dies unless,
like a child never wanted,
it is exposed undefended to the elements.

Some fabulous striking art created in collaboration by two of our members.

Here’s some striking poetry by Jenifer to show how such a killing works…

Icy Hue by © Jenifer DeBellis

That was the day I went away

as quietly as I could manage.

Stopped asking the questions
that were never meant
to be answered for my sake.

Read the whole thing wrong
in my naivety, consumption
trumping professionalism
with the turn of each new page.
Plotted myself onto the wrong side
of the stylo-thematic map –

missing that first clue.

There was the crux of it all:
the carefree step into the fall;
the unheeded warning.

Thought I was ready to come out
of that box – hell, everyone thought
I was ready for that.

You pulled me out of that safe place
with what I perceived as care.
Even fanned through my pages
with what felt like a breath of fresh life.

I longed to be read that way, again.
And yet I read too much into even that.
Really thought I’d hold that special place
of interest for longer, eternally longer.

I suppose a biased heart judges poorly.

Should’ve just left me there
(where I was safe from remembering
what it felt like to be disregarded
over the time it takes to read
that highly recommended novel).
I knew how to cope with that –
I’d dog-eared that page years ago.

Yesterday was the day I dusted off
the box that I knew better than
to break down or throw out.

Today I stand staring at that box.

There’s something sad and desperate about this image, beautiful and nostalgic, a soul laid bare.

Finally, Rhena’s soul search poetry.

A Dream of Liberation by © Rhenastarr

I hear my name
Whispered on the wind
Not a gentle calling
Rather a dark and gloomy
From somewhere outside
My dreaming
Is it the loneliness breaking
Free from inside of me
Offering up a cryptic glimpse
Into the black void of
My ramblings
My dark desires echo now
In the stilled chambers of
My wounded soul
Time lost in the muddy waters
Contemplating the vices that
Led me astray, stripping me raw
A haunting refrain, a lonely
Sounding in my head and
I feel myself falling into
The void
I see myself wandering, lost
Down an avenue of deep
Buried memories surface
Through the chilling haze
Daring to trespass on my
Dark reverie
Awkward steps, faltering in
Their gait, as I feel the bony
Chilling fingers scatter across
My spine
Drumming spirals of dread
Shadows seeking the light
Of my reasoning
Seeking to suck the essence
That remains of the me
That has dissolved into a mass
Of broken dreams and shattered
Illusions, making up the shell that
Now encompasses my weakened
Fate, ever shifting like sands of time
Stealing the joy that once lit the
Corners of my life
How do I find sanctuary in the
Blackness descending
The ink of it’s dark liquid
Scribbling a bleak eternity
Dripping me onto an empty page
As it gathers I see an image of the
Me that has now emerged and
The mirror glint on smokey glass
Leaves me silent and subdued
Shamed into a figure of pathos
Scrabbling with a burning need
To find shelter, to find succor from
The demons that seek to shred
The remaining sanity that fights
For resurgence
I hear a voice, recognizing it as my own
Singing a song of salvation
I feel myself reaching, lifting myself
Out of the pit into the light
Of a new day
A dream of liberation ends as dawn
Streaks across the sky

I am sorry if I’ve taken you onto a rather rough journey today. It’s easy to just want to see the sunny side, but the darker side needs to be looked at and inspected on occasion, too.

Sunday, 16 January 2011

Stone Cold Foxy - Sunday Features 16/01/11

The features today were inspired by Margaret Bryant - her emotive image and the phrase - "Stone Cold Foxy" created a a concept which really piqued my imagination.
I hope you will enjoy all the images and writing featured today.

Stone Cold Fox Says Reading Is Sexy by © Margaret Bryant

I have been enamored of the expression “stone cold fox” since yesterday. So it had to be in the title. All women should tell themselves everyday that they are stone cold foxes, it just makes you feel good.
There is a great John Waters quote about the sexiness of reading -“We need to make reading sexy again. If you go home with somebody and they don’t have any books, don’t fuck them.”

Concerto by © Valentina63
I am the composer
re thinking every note,
timing every moment.
I am the pianist
hammering my will on every key,
my mind’s fingers dancing prestissimo.
I am the piano
lying silent,
waiting at the mercy
of each human stroke and tampered fate.
But Sometimes, ...READ MORE

Be Careful With My Paper Heart by © Lea Michelle

Feeling torn, crumpled and a little worn thin…A self portrait.

Paper Made by © bjeliMis

These ragtime days in paper towns on paper trains with paper sounds
We got a lot coming but don’t know where from
These are the dirty yesterdays
Of cracked puddles not yet done
The street lamps a fluttering so you best catch up
That light goes out and you’re done
Don’t forget all the wrappings and trimmings so nice
The wind cuts your face and burns your eyes like spice
So press that coat a little closer because that’s all you have left
You are paper made...... READ MORE

Longing for Happy Hippy days by © Berns

Xativa, Spain. This Lady, seems pensive, perhaps longing for those bygone days of the Hippys. In a crowded market, she seemed to distance herself from all around her, standing pensively looking at nothing, except perhaps her past.

leaving winter behind by © ShadowDancer

you want to focus on the present
as if you were suddenly grown up and matured
‘the past is the past’, so you say
and as these words fly from your lips
like little black birds flying south,
in your numb blue haze of reality
(the universe of shadows you live in)
you don’t even realize
that I have become .... READ MORE

Disappointment by © Geraldine Maddrell (image no longer available on Redbubble)
The gap in my stomach widens
my legs turn to jelly
groans vomit themselves
as I take in the facts

Wondering by © Sybille Sterk

I told you
to go away
to jump off a cliff
to leave for Neverland

I shouted and screamed
I stomped my foot and
I turned my back

I hurled poison darts at you
I shot you with a gun and
I stabbed you deep

I kicked you
I hit you
I drowned you
in ugly words and accusations
in bitter tears and threats
in cold smiles and haughty looks

And still you’re here
Asking for more…

Which makes me wonder...... READ MORE

Norma Jeane by © Anita Inverarity

Another in my series of “Tragic Beauties”. Remembering the ordinary women in history who were trust into the spotlight and through misfortune and a tragic end to their lives are remembered forever as victims.
A Homage to Norma Jeane AKA Marilyn

What's Mine is Mine by © BeautifulDreamer
I’m not giving up my dreams. The texture and weight of them have seen me through many a storm. The anticipation of their fulfillment has comforted me when no human comfort could be found. I’ve gazed into the very heart of my dreams, lulled into a state of contentment by their sheer beauty.
I’ve discovered along the rocky terrain I’ve traversed (in weather fair and foul) that not many traveling companions are worthy of sharing my dreams. I’ve dared not whisper them to one and all; I’ve hidden my heart away, and sighed over the necessity of doing so.
I’ve felt the sting of betrayal enough times to make my sense of caution a vital part of my vagabond’s stock in trade. My lifestyle would not suit all, for infrequently I’ve discarded the shallow, the frivolous, the spurious. I’ve no use for small talk and flattery. I’ve learned that not everyone is worthy of my trust, just as I’ve learned to keep my own counsel as much as possible. To those worthy of my confidences (and I’ve found these to be few, and far between), my sense of loyalty and friendship know no bounds.
If you are invited into easy intimacy with me, we must have a vision in common. Your vision needn’t mirror or duplicate mine, but there must be some common denominator which enables you to recognize the beauty of my unique dreams. I must be able to catch the passion of yours, and respect the sturdy simplicity of their construction.
I’m not giving up my dreams. .. READ MORE

Behind The Mask by © Vickie Bodie

The I as mirror by © wildwomenlove

You sat
in the conviction
of my abstinence


in the face
of your own addiction

I did not
only walked
by your side

You swam
in the loneliness
of your solitude


large stories
of your sexual exploits

as I kept my
long term relationship
small... READ MORE

Whilst you are here - do pop in and take a look at the work of Agnès Trachet - our Featured Artist for January. Her work is simply stunning.

Wednesday, 12 January 2011

Features - Moments

Our lives change moment by moment and before we even realise everything seems to have changed. Here are some ‘moments’ I captured from our galleries and writing treasure trove…

This one just caught my eye – the colours, the expression, one moment of madness. Fabulous!

Ophelia by © strawberries

Ophelia by © strawberries

Anni’s (first) free streaming poem fits the madness and hunger in Strawberries’ image perfectly.

Opiate by © AnniG

Beyond the borders of
silent comprehension
lie illusions of emotion
deeply embedded in a
fleshy soul triumphantly
ruled by an ever hungry heart
in stark contradiction to ominous
predictions of a weary lonely mind
when once again delirium seeps
through cracks in armor to offer
renewed ecstasy, fervent pain
delivered in syrupy concoctions
still craving the devil’s sweet poison
hallowed hallucinations of love
a mighty drug, all the same

Which led me to the next picture. The first shows the inner madness we sometimes feel, not sure if the next shows the outer or inner madness?

Modern Vietnamese by © Marlies Odehnal
Modern Vietnamese by © Marlies Odehnal

Sunrisegirl’s poem seemed to me to encapsulate the words on Marlies’ image. How often, especially with the net and other communication devices do we fail to understand each other?

Not today- you are not here by © sunrisegirl

My friends
we dance around
in never ending circles
hoping that he or she may see us
Looking for the happiness
which we often share
but not today
its not here

are you there or is this a dream
it feels like you in these figures i see

they dance around me graceful and slow
but if it is you i shall never know

the figures they fade out into the night
i can no longer grasp that memorizing sight

the feeling of warmth sparked a glow deep within me
i call out to you in hope that i see thee

Now it is cold where i stand on this ground
i stumble and fall as the fog wraps around

it shortens my breath
it tightens my chest
it confuses my head
and gives me no rest

yes there are friends
and people to see
but they give me nothing
when you’re not with me

And then there are the moments when we feel full of magic and something else…

Feline femininity by © iamelmana
Feline femininity by © iamelmana

And here is the something else in Wildwomenlove’s poem.

The witching hour by © wildwomenlove

This poem is very long so here’s only an extract – read the whole poem by clicking on the title above.

My cauldron
of love and wonder
brewing magic potions
trickling down my thigh
the full moon
of my hearts desire

My black cat
the exquisite lace
beneath ample skirts
that swish
with grace
I dance

The full moon
and bathes
her light
robes heaving
sharing candle light
with my smile [...]

From magic places to foreign places. I loved the contrast between tradition and modernity in this one. Great shot.

MAIKO by © Tatum Wulff (this image is no longer available on Redbubble)
MAIKO by © Tatum Wulff

More far away places in Lisa’s poem, but sometimes we manage to stretch and stretch…

Bottled love messages…oceans apart… by © lisameryl

We’re oceans apart
forces of nature
paining infinite distance
within raging undercurrents

These windows of the soul
filled with tears
fall upon thy cheeks
bittersweet to taste

Our wishes and whispers
dreamings of concupiscence
crushing continental collaboration
alluring anticipated adoration

Entrusting high winds and roaring oceans to carry these bottled messages of eternity…

I succumb to only you. Accept my declaration of love. Trust me with your heart for I will always protect it. You have infinitely captured mine. There will be promises of seductions, serenades and symphonies. We’ll love beneath the moonlight of succulent fruit. Our lips will sing of passion.
Love and lust through Sunrise and Sunset. Embracing our souls for all eternity.

Forever Yours,

Staying in far away places, hsien-ku’s image and poetry (in the description of the image page) take me somewhere else entirely. I love diptychs and this one is stunning.

H-K310 by © hsien-ku (this image/artist is no longer available on Redbubble)

H-K310 by © hsien-ku

Rhena’s timely reminder. Her words were the starting point for these features.

THE MEASURE by © Rhenastarr

Measure your time
Not in

There’s something lonely and despondent about this image, but look closer, no one with stripy socks will be kept down for long… :-)

...hence the last and final poem. Even in those moments when everything seems lost, remember you’re a Dark Horse. ;-)

Dark Horse by © bjeliMis

When your nails scratch for the end of a rope too far to grasp
Feeling the burn in your thighs from the acid in your muscles
The tight coiled knot in your stomach that pierces only as fear can
When your fingers shake and your lips tumble
Don’t break down
For there is an arctic wind whipping in your ribcage
That blows as strong as the top of a Tibetan mountain
Hold your fingers tight
You are beginning to stretch
You are beginning to hurt and live and take
Whatever these hurting days will cut in you
But you are a spoon, hallowed and deep
You hold
You don’t bend, or stab, or slice
You scoop
And take what has been given,
Holding the frozen spoonful of your image
That never makes it down defeat’s throat

Enjoy! xo

Tuesday, 11 January 2011

Substance - Midweek Features 9/1/11

The features this week have been inspired by the work of Kallena Kucers. Although I am very familiar with Kallena’s art, everytime I come across her work I am have a surge of recognition and understanding of who she is and what she is saying. I always want to rest awhile in the images, where the more you look the more there is to see. Her work is both explosive and enigmatic at the same time.

The image this week that really struck me is “Substance (series 5) where the ephemeral being is suspended between emotional states. It is both moving and shocking, and also so very clever.

So, all the images this week have that same sense of substance – of lack of it. The images are layered with ambiguity and demand that we look closely to understand them.

Substance - Series 5 by © Kallena Kucers (image no longer available on Redbubble)

In “Virtue of Opposites” by Zeb Shaffer, we are invited to explore that knife edge between love and hate. It is strong, powerful and deliberately ambiguous. Zeb writes… There is a razors edge that one walks blindly along with bare feet: between the feeling of pure love and pure hate. The slightest breeze becomes a tempest that can push one to fall on ether side in the blink of an eye and send one tumbling into the chasms of the abyss. This abyss is fertile breeding ground for the creative spirit. It is often the very womb that births the greatest art.

Virtue of Opposites by © Zeb Shaffer

“Tears Of Fire” by Angela Burman, also explores the issues of love and loss, trust and betrayal. It is moving and strong. She connects the image to the poem by Dorothy Walters which finishes with these haunting lines..
The air here holds only emptiness,
a little dust stirring.
I think there will be wind tonight,
and the camels will cry out
in their sleep.

Tears Of Fire by © Angela Burman

Thelma Van Rensburg is an artist whose wry look at ourselves as women, always makes me smile, and yet, with the humour comes a deep poignancy – a theme that runs throughout her work. In “Paper Doll pin-up” we see the streotypical 1950’s woman – obsessed as ever with body size and shape. In this enigmatic and ‘simple’ image, Thelma shows us just how insubstantial is this whole concept.

bows, 2010 by © Thelma Van Rensburg

Geraldine Madrell is one of my favourite artists for her irreverent humour and for the overall power and depth of her work. This one is sheer fun, and in it, she describes so well the feelings we all have about the substance of our lives as women.

Cinder’s Was Feeling Somewhat Unappreciated! by © Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

“My patchwork Heart” by Leni Kae is a rich and vibrant image, that shows strength as well as vulnerability. It explores the substance of love and relationships. It ends with the repeated belief that love will mend this broken heart that has been repeatedly damaged by love itself.
In Leni’s own words…
The lady in this artwork cradles her ‘patchwork heart’. It is a heart that has experienced much in terms of love, heartache, pain, joy, sadness, and each patchwork piece tells part of her story. It has been some time since she has felt the pieces together, but she decides that the time has come for her story to be understood, and for her heart itself to feel again.

The background of the artwork is like the patchwork landscape of her past, and represents her thoughts. The length of her flowing red hair shows the strength of her spirit; whilst it touches her past, her cradled focus is the key to her future…Love.

My Patchwork Heart by © Leni Kae

“Bad Day” by Marlana Marry is an emotional and dramatic image combining all the different elements that have led to this feeling of emotional hurt and imprisonment, whilst at the same time not giving over to self-pity.

Bad Day by © Marlana Marry (image no longer available on Redbubble)

“The Little Odd” by Nikki Ella Whitlock, is an intriguing image, full of symbolism. I do not claim to fully understand it, but find myself looking at it again and again. For me, it is a dichotomy of innocence and experience and of pain and pleasure. Again, it makes me question what substance sustains and what destroys. A clever and profound image.

The Little Odd by © Nikki Ella Whitlock

Marlies Odenhal is relatively new to Pink Panther, but already her work is imapacting here. In “Imprisonment” she gives us much food for thought. The image hints at cultural differences in the lives of women, but also begs us to ask the question about the lives of women as a whole.

Imprisonment by © Marlies Odehnal

Cate Legnoverde’s image “Untitled” is a self-protrait. A shimmering, transparent body, which yet has real substance and form. It is so clever, and so very beautiful. I love it.

Untitled by © Cate Legnoverde (artist and image no longer on Redbubble)

“Fate of the two faced” by Margaret Bryant, is part of the wonderful ‘Mandy’ series. Margaret explores the issues of women in a light-hearted and fun way. Although she makes us smile, there is always a message with a punch in each one. Her she explores deception and lies, and what happens to those who practice to deceive. Foe me – it also makes me think of the whole issue of plastic surgery and the ‘deception’ inherent in this form of self-torture.

Fate of the Two-Faced by © Margaret Bryant

Continuing with the theme of deception, I could not resist another image from Thelma Van Rensburg from her paper doll pin-up series. It is strong, ambiguous, both fun and serious at the same time. The woman here has no real substance, her body and face distorted and contorted as she also practices to deceive. But, Thelma has also made her seem very real.

Deception 2008 by © Thelma Van Rensburg