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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
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
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
impenetrable
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)
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
... 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….
somewhere,
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. :-)
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
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
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
impenetrable
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)
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
... 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….
somewhere,
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. :-)
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