Mistress of Magic - Features - 11/4/2012

When I am sitting and pondering upon about a theme for the weekly features, it is quite extraordinary how Tammara seems to read my mind and presents a beautiful image that not only fits with the theme but which inspires all the other choices. Thank you Tammara.
So this week, let us explore some of the mystery and magic that influences our thinking and the way in we and others see us. We grow up with tales of magic, fairy tales and legends, all of which have an impact upon our psyche’s at an early age. These stories build expectations, give us role models and help determine those things we wish for.

MISTRESS OF MAGIC © by Tammera


Let us start to make our own stories.

One is whole, one is beautiful © by Rishani Sittampalam
Fairy Tales do happen. But we make our own stories. We write them from beginning to end. We make our own choices and inscribe them on the pages of our life and live. There are no Prince Charmings who will slay your dragons. We princesses can slay our own dragons. There are no Knights in shining armour to shield us from dangers and snares. We damsels are not in distress enough to not to have common sense. So hear ye all damsels, slay your own dragons, and don’t depend on any Prince to come galloping into your life to sweep you off your feet. Every woman is complete, whole, able, capable of living life to the fullest and having their very own happily ever after – just don’t depend on other’s to make your fairy tale to come true. Being one does not make us a cripple. Sweep yourself off your own feet. Dazzle yourself. Live your happily ever after. One is whole, one is beautiful.

Rapunzel did at least make some effort to free herself from her imprisonment.

Rapunzel © by Sybille Sterk


Sometimes, such stories and myths guide our own unrealistic expectations on ourselves.

Just Hang me back up again © by bjeliMis
Expectation’s hands against my throat
cornucopia of strain pulsing through my arteries
I’m choking in the resolution that I can’t make it
Nails scratched the edge and fell right on through
These veins burn from trying
This fire behind my heart
left on from last night
Strangulating from the pressure
pushing inside out
These build up of thoughts crashing like thunder
wrap these arms tight
take pain onto paper
Hard to breathe when you’re overwhelmed by what you can’t be
you pin me to the board
say this is what you should be
and all the while I’m dangling from the plastic pin
my skin ripping from the top
and there I go
there I drop

Our bids for freedom are difficult against such myths.

Wild flowers do not move towards the sunlight … Self Portrait © by Anthea Slade


Our society and its media continues to place unreal expectations upon us.

Between hope and fallacy © by msdebbie
Meaning, transparency
between word and idea.
Feeling, integrity
between hope and fallacy.
Radio, lies act as
shiny connections,
messages without reflection.
Commercial voices,
words so bright and big,
they are:
- sweet pear cider
to soothe a parched throat;
- dark chocolate
to placate a trembling tummy;
- bubble bath relaxation
before tawdry dishwater dissolves.
They tell such lies
about society,
about themselves,
about intimacy;
how close they are to me,
their down to earth listener,
while each lie earns more
than many receive each year.
The lies are breathless,
beautiful, tasty. Like
the notion of being
misunderstood, unloved,
untouched by an uncaring wife.
Just wanting a kiss,
sweet lips, to replace
torment and strife.
The lies fall so smoothly
into the cracks of a car.
They become crunchy,
like toffee,
or creamy and delicate,
like pavlova,
that I long to lick them up,
swallow whole the irresistible,
fluffy concoction.
Underneath the lies,
the truth shifts uneasily.
In my car, whether driving
over ice-covered terrain,
or through Brisbane humidity,
I listen for the radio’s whine,
for the lies that lurk so seedily.
I ignore the steamy murmuring
and step into the light, outside.
My own imperfect voice reminding me:
Feeling, integrity
between hope and fallacy.
Meaning, transparency
between word and idea.
So we need to stand tall and shout back.

Defiance © by Glitterfest


Wouldn’t we all like to weave a little magic when it comes to protecting our children?

Closing Time © by Jenifer DeBellis
What I really wanted to do was wrap
her in a warm embrace and erase
the pain, one tear at a time. I wanted
to be able to tell her “This too shall pass,”
just as my mother had reassured me.
My heart’s desire was to fill her with hope,
anything to numb the anguish that built
the raging storm that danced toward
an irrefutable truth and point of revelation.
But as I looked at those vulnerable eyes
I could not bring myself to lie, to give
false witness to one of life’s harsh realities.
How could I fill her heart with fallacy,
with fanciful fantasies that would fail
her like putting one’s faith in any (wo)man
is guaranteed to do? Instead I held her
tight and whispered, “I wish I could
tell you the things you long to hear,
but all I can say is that I love you.
People will disappoint you, hurt you,
and grow fainter as the seasons subside.”
A single kiss can only erase one tear,
but the love of a mother can overcome
a multitude of malice for the least of hers.
I guess I could tell her my love is secure
and accept that her disappointment
in such a seemingly simple offer
of comfort would some day be worth
more than its weight in precious metals.

And remind ourselves that freedom comes from within.

All she has is within © by Heather King


And we can find our own freedom if we believe in ourselves.

I think I can, I think I can…I know I can © by sandra ellen
I took a train of thought today
an express of no regret
wind blown on the platform
as the whistle blew, we’ve met
my train stopped at all stations
far flung this metaphor
my baggage stowed, I settled back
to close my eyes and snore
yet a constant throng of passengers
meant that this was not to be
so I staggered to the buffet car
for some hos-pit-al-ity
I perched upon a bar stool
to watch the past’ parade
and instead of getting legless
sipped on homemade lemonade
my wits about me I best keep
so to not get into strife
for to trickle out my ramble
is the story of my life
then she came, this vision splendid
sprinkling tease all over me
I grabbed my glass and coaster
and followed her to see
we coupled and lamented why
our travel plans thus far
had kept us on the right tracks
how ‘lucky’ that we are
you see, it’s not about our selflessness
but more of words like mind
so we megaphoned it up and down
that we are all one kind
the trip went on for miles and miles
across the countryside
I gazed out windows clear as mud
till I finally realised
let’s not listen to the rattling wheels
as the journey bumps and grinds
nor compartmentalized experiences
or insitu stick that binds
enjoy the rambling ‘feel good’ scene
as our trip about us flies
embrace the bigger picture
accept discern and rise…
ss Thursday March 22, 2012

Let us rise and celebrate all that we are and all that we can be.

l'ascension © by Lissie Rustage


Because we are women.

I am woman © by su2anne
There is a space
Infinite and
Vast with a
Lake of turquoise
Waters so buoyant
Yet allows me to
Plumb its depths.
And in this
Wondrous place I can
Rise up like a
Mountain and be
Swept away by the
Wind.
For this is my
Internal landscape.

Congratulations to all the artists and writers featured here. Each one of you is an inspiration.