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Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety…...
A celebration of inner strength and beauty
1 – told with the voice of Mrs Ivy Houston
I am an old woman.
Have lived a good life,
Don’t want another funeral, except my own.
I’ve always thought people
are best described in two ways:
can be compared with the sky or earth
Cumulous clouds, they’re the light fluffy ones.
Thunderclouds – dark, dangerous, trouble.
Gentle hills – steady, secure, my kind of person.
I am an old woman.
I can tell you this much:
Little things add up, they matter.
The good book shows me this too:
You can learn something every day.
Psalms and Proverbs define truth.
I’m not schooled,
but I know this.
Words matter, use them carefully.
I don’t like that meanings shift with time.
Children should never be called kids,
Those are baby goats, not precious at all.
I love my daughters, grand-children
and the great grand-children.
I’m proud of our history.
I don’t understand a lot of the modern things.
Mobile phones, internet, exciting, maybe,
but not for me. I prefer my wireless.
I am an old woman.
I’d rather listen to The old rugged cross
than the noise on radios nowadays.
2 – told with the voice of Ms Debbie
Your wise musings
gave way to groans.
Elderly and frail,
I winced with each new moan.
A strong woman
I’d always admired.
You became so weak,
while I was ashamed and tired.
That stroke after Easter,
so cruel in its fearsome might.
Blue veins trembling through paper-thin skin,
your deterioration an unwelcome sight.
But an end to the suffering?
If only. For that we hoped in vain.
Such a faithful Christian woman,
watching your mind slip, my thoughts a blood stain.
Rage-red eyes focused on your blue orbs.
Clutching at your withered and battered hands,
when you could no longer speak or smile,
the falsity of “One True God” was fully absorbed.
I’ve been called many things, been insulted;
ignored. Yet the visions keep coming: exalted,
they pour from me as if they were my own
Standing on the edge of what’s real, I’m alone
I see things before they happen, it’s true
And hear random facts before others, too
Sensing developing things on horizons,
feeling the auras change like the seasons,
yet wondering what it all really means
A simple understanding often gleans
half of the picture, blurring the unheard
Today I had a dream; it fled from words
most harsh… A nightmare on instant replay
It’s the same one I had yesterday
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety.
William Shakespeare, “Antony and Cleopatra”
“This is my Phenomenal Woman inspired by Maya Angelou’s poem by the same name, (see below), in this her third guise…she has been though a lot, but it has not made her any less beautiful, any less phenomenal in her life…she takes care of herself, her family and friends, and at the end she can say “I did my best“ (Janis Zroback)
Vetiver and ginger
cast a spell on me
I drop and open deeply
to a state of reverie
Does it have a shelf life
magic in the hand
Turn and spin and permeate
grace infusing land
He thinks maybe
I think no
but who can really tell
The drunken have
consumed their host
The walls around us fell
“For me to describe what this piece means, seems next to impossible. i used a beautiful acquaintance of mine to depict what i wanted to portray. this stems from something deep within, from personal experience, and from learning to depend upon pain, instead of a man. when life happens, sometimes darkness can consume you, and there is peace in physical pain at times that can make the insanity of life’s experiences seem sane. i don’t know if this makes sense to anyone, but it’s crystal clear to me. (Heather King)
She was forced into a form she was never meant to fill
Her liquid limbs were drowning in her own deep blue sea
Sweet cherubim and choirs sung in melodies off-key
Neither beast nor burden could tame the raging tide
Her restless spirit cast out nets on both sides of the port
Searching for those whispered secrets trapped within the swell
“For many religions and societies of the world, this is the image of the Antichrist. 6 of February is the international day against female genital mutilation. Between 120 and 140 million women have suffered this dangerous and harmful practice in at least 28 countries. 3 million girls are still at risk each year.” (Tania Losada)
Canon 400D
50mm f/1.8 Canon lens
50mm f/1.8 Canon lens
Does it feel good, honey?
Does it
make your lady wood
feel funny?
Does it
make your lady wood
feel funny?
I’m so mad, I’m sh-shaking
This power that you’ve taken so easily
Like a strand of red
Red thread
Tie it round my wrist.
Red thread
Tie it round my wrist.
Tug it forward,
Pull it back
Pull it back
“I’m all submission*”
so attack
before the moment’s gone.
before the moment’s gone.
“One of a series of pastel compositions inspired by the statues depicting the draped female form traditionally used in ancient Greek architecture as embellishments for supporting columns. These stone sculptures depicted women as strong, powerful beings and the artist has aimed to capture this characteristic weight and solidity in the artwork.” (Maria Gilbert)
First Caryatid by © Maria Gilbert
(Image no longer available on Redbubble)
(Image no longer available on Redbubble)
Beneath this veil
Where your mortal eyes
Will never touch these
Flaming tears of gold
Ask me if im ok
And i will tell you
What you wish to hear
And i will tell these singing eyes and fingers
There is freedom within
There is freedom without
For even a bird of paradise
In a cage of steel can know freedom
In her heart live the Phoenix
In her heart lives eternity
Congratulations to you all. Fabulous art and writing.
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