Monday, 16 May 2011

What colour are you? Sunday Features 24/04/2011

What colour are you? A journey through our own colours at different stages of our lives.
The features this week were inspired by the moving poem by IrisR – who pays tribute to so many of our members and friends. It is a poem written from the heart, celebrating friendships, sisterhood and the wisdom of age. It is bright, it is flamboyant – it is wonderful.

Color Me Magenta, Color Me Pink by © Iris R
Upon a fuzzy vista
Of Polychromatic Flames
Vision is blurred
Eyes trying to focus
Blinking as blurry turned
To a solid view
Undeterred to finally view
Through the mist
Of colorful shades of soft Pink
Up to the color of a flaming Magenta Hue
The apparition evolved
Through the venting vapor
And behold!
What did I see?
Butterflies, dragon flies, angels, little girls,
Birds, women
All with delicate wings;
Beautiful different shades of Pink.
From Baby Pink to Magenta
Fancifully dressed
All with their different characteristics
Of these variations of Feminine Hues
A coupling of Fiery Red and
White of Pure
As they traveled through the misty skies
The raging Sun had fired his kind kiln
A ritual of cleansing daily done
By these graceful beauties
They land motionless to rest
To rebirth their spirit
With a mirror on a hand
Reflect about what life has to offer
And the why and how that in Pink and Magenta
Is how they hide, travel
And Live
I heard strong Magentas
Strutting their voices so bold
They were shouting about the injustices of the world
Abuse of children, men and women
Magenta is Calm and
Neutralizes disorder and violence
Their names are Tatum, Helen Bascom, Anna Shaw, Doreen Philips
Betty Smith, Restlessd Jenifer DeBellis, Sybillie Sterk, Missy JennieB
And MadWorld
Some Baby Pinks came along with pens and paper
Erika, Christie, Lupa , Robin Monroe. and Lisa Jewel were gravitating on
Pink Cotton Candy and Pink Bubble Gum
When along came Kristin, her shade being Salmon,
(For she is always in a Magenta survival mode
Striving no matter what’s up her river)
She grabbed them by their hands
And sat them on Shocking Pink rocks
With matching tuffets
And Tickled Pink they did together
What they do best
Give their inks wings of life.
Two sisters came up
Along with Becca, Autumnwind (Shar), Jane Solomon,
Lisameryl, Sandra Ellen, Robin Monroe, Ushna Sander,
Sally Omar and Mss3
What shades were they?
I really do not know
For there were highlights
Of different Flames
Flickering between
Rhrenarstarr, Skydreamer, Becca.
Laura Broussand and Jane.
I was mesmerized,
Trying to drink the whole view
But more and more
Pink arrived
Even women whom I didn’t know
It was a feast I was not accustomed to
From a rainbow up above
Red bled out
As White (the opportunist)
Bumped in
And the more White blended in
More shades of Pink it made
Oh my dear Simply Red
And Annie Annie
Are now Blushing Pink
While Rubyjo, Rikki
Annie, Red, Solar, Limerick and Iris
Were smiling giving ourselves
A Funny Devilish Tickled Pink wink
Wow, I glanced in awe of all of
These amazing shades of Pink
They were twinkled and laughing
With all kinds of tinkering
And out jumped our charming Linaji, Limerick
Cheryl (Giggly Me), Arcadia, Trisha, Tatum
Shanina Conway, Princessleah, Rubyjo, Rikki the Rock Star
And Holly Paino
Some with their ink, cameras, brushes
Helen, with that gorgeous smile (wigs),
Tracy Mac, Sherri and Laura Broussand
And of course, Lianne
Oh, you naughty you. You have all of the Hues!
I saw a great pond
Filled with Flamingos
Fuchsia was their game
When I looked closer a Strawberry Lilyblue
Was lazily floating
Taking in the full view of
Shelly, Abi, Jacqleen, and lovely Normaje splashing in the rain
Lisa Jewell got distracted with all of the giggling
and ran up to them to join the fun.
She blew into the pond bubles of words
just to see how they would swirl and twirl.
Melodyone and Sandra Ellen decided to join in the fun
But all they could blow out
were flowers of Love
Linaji gigled when she saw how the bubbles made her
sailboats go thump, thump, thump
in the pond.
I saw the Sun mingle with Rainbow
And the Pink Heavens opened
Strumming more angels
And out flew Mariangel, Teacup
Valzart, Anthea Slade, Ms Debbie, Solar, Sherrie Charm
Del Millar, Trena and You Bet along side with Sandy
BabyM2, Sweet Laurie Search came running with a camera and ink
Baby M2 held the line for she had
To borrow from a neighbor a dress
Would you believe in her closet there
Was not a shade of Pink?
Rosa Cobos was also in a dilemma, for she nearly made it
With her red hat and coat, she got herself a Pink Polka o Dot umbrella
She sneaked in her cats and her Silver Blue Moon
Ladymoose did the same too
For without her pets she didn’t know what to do
Jacqleen, Shanina, Princess Leah, Anthea Slade are intense passion——
Hot Pink is their color
While Doreen Philips and her mother, Fran More and Lorena Maria,
They are also strong with Electric Pink
Hmmm. Now my cousin Isa Rodriguez and
Sally Omar, Elizabeth Bravo, En-joy,
Karin Taylor, RRoca, Evita, Lois Bryan
Creative Kitty, Sherri Charm and Rodeorose
They are of a different tune
They will dance, they will sing for you
With their images
They will make you take a second look
And roll out the Mauve carpet
For you
Between them there is a little of Baby Pink
Hot Pink
And a little of Magenta
So I’ll color them
Bright, Juicy Pink
Magenta trumpets came a sounding
Announcing to come and gather around
Metal, Earth, Wind, Water and Fire
Bowed as Mother Nature
Made Her Presence known
Some sat on dazzling raspberry or shy peachy Pink
Little girls were sat on front row clouds
Under cherry blossom trees for shade
It was time to teach the young ones
About the grace of being a woman
While their innocence was to be left untouched
Until it was time to really be a grown up
The elder women sharing their experiences about life
About how a woman is tender
A woman is love
Without giving her spirit
She is to be respected, she is to be strong
All types of women were there
Teaching their truths
Lianne, Mis JennyB, Anna Shaw, Tatum,
Doreen Rosa Cobos and Isa
Led the group
Along with
Hsien-Ku, Frannie Moore, Helene Ruiz,
Jan Timmons, Supernan, Restlessed
Holly and Betty Smith
It was a girl’s day out discussing their issues
Playing and having some fun
But then we all stood together and held hands
In solemn silence for the Ribbons in Pink
Sisters, mothers, daughters, grandmothers
Nieces, wives, girlfriends, nieces and friends
Sisters forever, our forever friends
Always to be remembered
A pink ribbon forever pinned to our hearts
For the ones who fought and the ones that still fight
Strong in body, mind and soul
I had walked into a magical,
Shimmering paradise
But now all has to end
Pink has rested and
Has left me to ponder
That the secret that
Lies inside
Is that Pink is the universal color of love
It provides feelings of caring, tenderness,
It is Feminine, boldness and intensity
The root of it all Red splashed with White of Pure
Making us Women
All strong and true.
This evening, my friends,
The sky dances in different shades of Pink
As angels, girls, butterflies, birds and women
Spread their delicate laced wings of Pink
And I with a smile proudly
Open mine ready to fly
For I am also one of them
To spread with my wings of
Pink and Magenta all over the world.
What shade of Pink is Iris?
You might ask
I may be one or I may be all
That is entirely up to you
To decide
But just color me Pink or Magenta
Or just Red splashed with White
Pink is the Word.

To find out which colour you are - check out Colorstrology. :-) A bit of Flash-fun.  

The vivid red of Marlies Odenhal’s image seemed to have been created to match the colour concept in Iris/ poem. All of Marlies work is enigmatic and strong and this one is no exception. I loved the power and the vibrancy of the image.

Portrait in red by © Marlies Odehnal

“Sleep Mask” is a poem which touches all the insecurities we feel from time to time about who we are and how we look. Singerchick writes with both charm and innocence – and yet she packs a powerful punch into her words.

Sleep Mask by © singerchick
Don’t open your eyes.
It’s much easier to see through rose-colored glasses that way.
Why trouble yourself with reality?
You are the god of all in your cotton candy rainbow realm,
and imperfections don’t exist —
Least of all in the mirror.
Don’t open your eyes
as you soar through the air on gossamer wings.
All is picture-perfect and right with the world
in your blindness —
Pleasure transcends veracity!
Unveiling the light would only serve to traumatize.
Don’t open your eyes.
Instead, shun the daylight
and curse the sun’s disclosure
of those cobwebs in the corner and skeletons in the closet.
Pull the shades down tight and hide all the light bulbs!
No need to strain those
baby blues, nor worry your pretty little head.
Don’t open your eyes; lest you see ugliness,
And truth.

 “The Unbreakable Tie” by Himitsuhana portrays so beautifully, the silvery ethereal moon with all its symbolism inherent for us women. The description in the dialogue says it all..

“Oh capricious, crabby, suspicious moon, you seem so amused when you see me going round and round and my confusion enthrals you.
You boast about the fools, whom- holding out their hands- carry the illusion they can touch you.
Shy, bizarre, erratic moon your coldness inspires poets and dreamers who stare at your magic and fake glow.
Lying, inconsistent, pale moon, you hide yourself behind the perfect smile of a crescent or flaunt your silver face while enjoy creating tides that stir my soul.

Dear, sweet, friendly moon, I’ve never found anything in this world so similar to me.”

The unbreakable tie by © Himitsuhana

“Lake Of Dreams” by lianne is both beautifully descriptive and also insightful. It speaks of yearning and hope and the need to weed out the errors of the past in order to renew the soul.

Lake of Dreams by © Lianne Schneider
I hear the mourning doves cooing almost sorrowfully
as the horizon rises out of sleep in heavy morning mist.
Mist that softens the hard edges of all things and
lifts from the warming earth like incensed prayers,
an offering to the gods of this lavender dawn.
Sycamores and maples, washed in shimmers of silver,
appear cloaked in shawls of opaque purple light,
stark, angular lines of their forms gentled by the haze.[...]
(The author is no longer a member of Redbubble - however you can visit her either on her blog or her website)

“Girl with a Birds Nest” by Sybille Sterk explores so well the myths and realities of becoming a mother. Like all Sybille’s work it is skilfully crafted and rich with symbolism. Sybille’s description is a joy to read…

A suitable image for Easter you may think, but not so, this image is in fact about the body clock most women hear ticking away in their heads. I think women are more aware of their own bodies and also of the fact that their child bearing years are only for so long and that at a certain age having a child may be difficult if not impossible.
This is not to say that all women want children, but even just the possibility of still being able to have them if you want them. Hence the nest, which sits squarely on her head with the eggs prominently displayed the same way the idea of maybe having children one day is squarely in many women’s heads.
However, nowadays having children also has become a ‘fashion accessory’, which is why the nest is shown like a chic little hat and why I’ve chosen a fashion style portrait for the model. Having children, self esteem and career are all intertwined if you are a woman. Having children often means a break if not a stop to a career, which changes your view of yourself. Suddenly, after being a woman with her own career and own ‘life’ you become a mother and nurturer, which changes relationships and your view on life.
The pocket watches symbolise the body clock ticking away inside…

Girl With Bird’s Nest by © Sybille Sterk 

“Repair Shop” by lovelyrita is a poem which makes me laugh. She speaks with a directness that is sharp and poignant at the same time. Here she deconstructs the romanticised view of sex that is so often portrayed in literature and adds her own truths. I love it.

Repair Shop by © lovelyrita
Maybe it’s too hard,
but I think it’d be nice
if we could write about sex
without whipping out
the medical textbook,
where words like clitoris
and sexual intercourse triumph.
Or referencing dollar store paperback romances,
where feeble, trembling hands of virgin maidens
are introduced to massive, quivering members
in need of undoing
corset lacing and uncrossed legs
before the ship sails and all is lost.
I’d like to jump in the sack
without pulling back that paperback
or wasting licked fingers on dictionary pages
because it’s not as simple as
a read you can scan over
like a storybook or creed
it’s a part of life’s ride.
There’s no set definition
add a bit of clumsiness
to some unexpected frisson
like an inconsistent tide.
It’s supposed to be smooth and organic
but we look at it like a mechanic
tensing up in a panic
at the sum of our parts.

I simply had to pair “Next Level Reproduction” by nanaris to the poem above. Here reproduction has been turned into the surreal and it works so well. Beautifully crafted and original art.

Next level reproduction by © nanaris

I love the poem “I must be a strange woman” by mermanda. It is straight, honest and full of truths. She speaks of the need for us all to be who we are, without the need for masks. Her description is very strong and very telling…
So I have read a few writings lately here on the bubble that has struck a deep chord within.
I don’t want to offend anyone so I wont name names as to who wrote them.
This is something that is very important to me, something that I have learned and am thankful I have done so at a young age.
I think it is so important to wake up, and to not let our lives revolve around one thing. One person.
To do it for ourselves.
Especially being a woman in this physical society. Beauty products and fads shoved down our throats.
I think it time someone should question it.

I must be a strange woman by © mermanda
I must be a strange woman
not into dresses or frills
no red lipstick here
just bare au’ natural
I do like leather and lace
must be the right time and place
like leather covered seats
in my red Mustang
my muscle machine
lace on my skin
as I slide in
pale skin compared
to rich black leather
splashing orange and tanning myself
is like trying to catch a feather
would you really want me if I was just pretending?
for when the color fades
I just have to re-apply?
seems so silly to me
how women lie
I have better things to do
than look tan for you
These potions are chemicals
applied to my delicate
porcelain skin
I wont take part of the drug
of the sin
I have my own concoctions to try
bigger fish to fry
than mens hearts
When I wake up in the morning
getting dressed for the day
applying the daily mask
I do it for myself
not for anyone who asked
High heels to make me taller
to bring out my sexy legs
jeans and dresses too tight
so you can stare at my ass
my thighs
my game
how can you live like that?
only in vain
what happens when it fades
who will love you when it rains
when the sun sets on your beauty
he wont ask
for another helping
your fruits will spoil and you will rot
a younger woman appears
and brings with her
your worst fears
your man is straying
you taught him this way
told him it was ok
to be attracted to
just the physical
just you for the day
not ever asking for more
not thinking about the other whores
Life is too short to
live like a fake
a womans facade
the pressure’s they make
to look like a hooker
what they think beautiful is
its really just for suckers
men follow along
who would deny a beauty
that flutters her fake lashes
My younger life I spent
being followed and chased
beauty was never recognized
for more than my face
like I was just made for men
to take and to make a toy with
till one day I said
took off the makeup
wore looser clothes
hiding my beauty
don’t want it to show
on the inside
or the out
lost my glow
filled with doubt
ripped off the heels
and replaced them with soles
tired of being looked at
like a piece of ass
instead wanted to be seen for
and class
So I wont try to lure you
like a siren in the sea
you have your free will
stay with me forever
can you say that you will?
I might get better
with each mornings light
I won’t try to capture you
or keep you from flight
I’m not that type of person
to clip your wings at night
but just know that when I say
I love you
I mean every word
Don’t get me wrong
tell me that I am beautiful
but not for the things I wear
or the blonde color of my hair
but for the whole package
so just stop
sit back
and stare

The art of Thelma Van Rensburg is challenging and often disturbing. Her wok comments on the objectification of women and this image “A carefree Pattern” is a comment on the way in which women are viewed – a set of separate and disconnected body parts. It echoes the message in mermanda’s poem above.

A Carefree pattern, 2010 by © Thelma Van Rensburg

I view the poetry of Jenifer De Bellis as amongst the best of the best here in Pink Panther. All her poems have multiple layers of meaning and her style is taught and truthful. Here, in “Yes We’re All Dying” we see her speaking – perhaps about herself and her alter-ego, but perhaps also about a relationship with another. For me it speaks directly to me about the feelings I have for my own mother. I cannot get it out of my head.

Yes, ’We’re All Dying’ by © Jenifer DeBellis
There’s a ghost in my path;
she appears in my dreams, too.
I cut her out in the shape
of a paper person
because that’s all she’d
let me keep of her memory.
And ever since
it’s been hard to put down
those shiny scissors.
So I’ve begun cutting out
her victimizing words
into cute little accessories.
I brandish my own words
with her cutouts
after I’ve spit-shined them
just like the shiny edges
of those scissors I use.
The same ones
I continue to see her
reflection in next to mine
and can’t seem to figure out
how to cut us apart.

I had to pair “Scars of Mayhem” by Janelle McKain with Jenifers poem. Janelle is a fabulous artist whose work is so detailed and so symbolic. Here, the image brought to mind what we do to ourselves with our own self-critical introversion.
We put up walls to shield us from the chaos we call life.
We block ourselves from all things hurtful and untrue….

but,we are none-the-less scarred over time.
Mayhem, she smirks out at us with wolf like eyes and says,
Bring it on

Scars of Mayhem by ©  Janelle McKain

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