Welcoming Spring and Looking Back at Winter – Midweek Features – 23/03/2011

I chose a theme of green for this week’s art and a theme of renewal and contemplation for the writing. Monday saw the Spring Equinox and I felt with everything suddenly bursting into bloom whilst some of Winter’s remnants are still hanging around this would be a good idea. LOL See for yourself…

This image seemed to encapsulate everything I wanted to say with this week’s features. There’s something romantic and melancholy about it, something contemplative and celebratory, just a very special atmospheric image.

Rose by © miruna uzdris

 

This wonderful poem just stayed with me ever since I read it, and although it’s maybe looking back in contemplation, there is a seed for a new Spring in still chasing…

Chasing ghosts in the night by © Sukhwinder Flora

I say goodbye at the station

Knowing he is heavy with time

Time that’s has passed us by

Unnoticed

And I can see his struggles

In his hands and the lines of his face

And I see that he’s not looking at me

But at the might have beens

The future yet to be written

And doors unopened

This restlessness in his heart

Seems like it will never leave

He’s chasing ghosts in the night

Sometimes wisdom lies

In all those things you cannot say

I see myself in the mirror

Older,

still trying to find, my own way

Cant you see

That I’ve been searching

And it’s the only way i know how

All my temples are ruins

And reduced to rubble

From chasing ghosts in the night

The four winds have surrendered

And now there’s no way back home

There’s no shelter back there

I put on a song to save me

Hoping it will make me feel what i cannot say

Some kneel and press palms

Some play a track

Walking into some oblivion

Never looking back

Chasing ghosts in the night

He is silent in the car

Knowing that something ain’t right

That freedom is hard to find

That the change can be worth the fight

But I know she is also leaving

I saw it as she walked through the door

And I hear it in her silences

A tear falls in the streets

Another step into the dark

Chasing ghosts in the night

More looking back and looking into the mirror, but in a good way… Love this image – the striking contrast of the red and green and the title.

Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed by © strawberries

 

Here’s the perfect match for it. Or it least that’s how it feels to me. ;-)

how does it feel by © Alenka Co

they say to be popular you have to lie

but how does that feel

knowing their praise, adulation, support, sympathy

is for someone that isn’t really you

for something that didn’t happen to you

for a hurt you pretend to suffer

for emotions you pretend to feel

how far are you willing to go?

was it worth it

taking your pillow

and casting your feathers of jealousy and hate to the wind

can you gather them back now

repair the damage you’ve done

tell me, is your popularity worth the price

does it really feel that good

when you know in your heart

it is based on lies

and in hurting another

A little bit of whimsy, that’s what Spring is all about.

Lady Cage by © FilleDeLEau

Another great poem – as whimsical as the image at a first glance, but again like the image with far more meaning hidden in plain sight.

Magic Trick by © lovelyrita

I have a sunny disposition

but I am a dynamo of volition

on a major, life-long expedition.

I put the eccentric in tradition – -

while working toward my ambitions

and I don’t need to ask your permission

to turn the key and start the ignition.

You know, I’m a limited edition – -

The cat’s meow.

I finished my search

and rescue mission now

and I got my gun cocked, emitting frisson

Pow!

with every spark of ammunition,

you wonder how I do it.

I am a fucking magician.

Frida Kahlo was a fabulous artist and woman and therefore very deserving of this beautiful homage. The imagery used – the flowers, the ornaments, the green all speak of renewal and connection to the world around us (at least to me).

My homage to Frida Khalo by © Madalena Lobao-Tello

 

Spring is the time when we make plans for the rest of the year… it might also be a good time to decide our fate?

choice by © dab -

I see giant power-lines blowing in the wind

and a bus barreling down on me

am I being saved

is this the end of me

should I jump out of the way

or is this Destiny

I could always hop on the bus

it desires to pick me up

but that would glue fate to the driver’s hands

I think I’ll jump

and polydream my own plans

The next image reminded me of a Renoir – the light, the feeling of almost floating and the gentleness and dance like pose. There’s is a lightness and acceptance and renewal about this image which felt like Spring to me.

I left my hat on… by © Lucky LaRue

But here’s Winter again… sometimes no matter what you do, it’s just not enough.

When Sorry’s Just Not Enough by © mnkreations

When Sorry’s Just Not Enough

What do I do when the road comes to the end? What do I do but follow the bend? You walk the line never looking for things you can’t find. I search for dreams, I reach for the sky. It’s my time to fly, it’s your time to cry, it’s my time tell you goodbye. What do I do when your going’s too tough. What do I do when you say it’s too much? How do I say I’m sorry when sorry’s just not enough?

We stood side by side. We watched as the future marched on; never a plan, never a word. Time passed in a blur. You thought I’d never leave. But here we are, we drifted apart—I toward the sunrise and you toward the night; searching for lost love, searching for light. What do I do when I say I’m sorry and you say it’s too tough? What do I do when you say it’s too much? How do I say I’m sorry when sorry’s just not enough?

I watch as you bleed, heart torn open wide, wanting to run, wanting to hide. You say sorry’s only a word, empty, without feeling, never wanting to be heard. What do I do when you hurt to the core? What do I do when you say life’s not worth livin’ anymore? What do I do when your going’s too tough? What do I do when you say it’s too much? How do I say I’m sorry when sorry’s just not enough?

How do I say I’m sorry when sorry’s just not enough? How do I say I’m sorry when sorry’s just not enough? How do I say I’m sorry…

A perfect finale – a Spring symphony in greens. You can almost hear the music…

Symphony by © Cabisha

This I just had to include. What a perfect poem to elaborate on the thoughts I started off with on this journey although it might leave you with more mysteries to solve… :-)

The romance of living the most subtle of absolute deaths by © Kristin Reynolds

In the end there is only fantastic vision—

an end to diversion, and the division

of most likely scenarios.

Where have all the Baudelaire’s gone?

Fuck the cowboys, leave them to their beans.

What we need here is some goddamn fantastic

sock smokin’ madness—

offset by some, Je vous aime follement

and

Te amo.

When you close your eyes, what do you see?

Who do you see when the lights

in your room

are dark—

as dark as the streets behind corners on a moonless night,

alone, with nowhere to go?

Can you see the new world you’ve created,

simply by flicking the switch

in your skull marked: DREAM

to OFF?

Do you see the object of your desire?

or just a bed

and absence of corners;

or a dark horse riding out your window

screaming as the light

in it’s eyes

goes out.

Or are you the one

who sees heaven in hands?

holding your face like a whisper,

the way a tulip’s outer petals hold

its inner,

as delicate hours

inside it’s fragile

unfolding heart.

Or is it the old warehouse you see,

down by the docks—

a ghost-town

full of dead ghost riders, floating

face-up in a stagnant,

still water pool?

Go ahead. Be brave. Look.

Open your eyes, and see your world

looking back,

and then tell me you’re not a poet:

together

and impossibly gone.

Have a lovely week everyone and enjoy the first signs of Spring (if Spring is starting where you are or the first signs of Autumn and Winter if you’re on the other side of the globe).

Midweek Features 24/11/2010

We're finally finding our stride and here are the midweek features - a mix of art and writing.

Mixed Feelings by ©Agent7

One of my fave images this month. There's so much to see and understand in this. The technique is fab and the look and feel are great. Perfect to start off the features.

Sixty Ticks Of Nothing by ©acquaridan

All the business of life and all the things we need to do, that are expected of us and so little time to just be - perfectly expressed in this poem.

I’m not crazy
Not at all

Seriously

I keep telling myself that
I may just believe it

One of these days

For all intense purposes
No one would suspect a thing
My friend and I we work
In simpatico with each other

We have an understanding
An agreement if you will
To co-exist in a state
Of perpetual normalacy

Normal
What is that

Really

Responsibilities and rules
Governed by obligations
Distinguished with deadlines
Which necessitate compliance

Appointments to keep
Places in which to be
Conversations to be had
Agendas to follow

Stop
Timeout

Sit on the bench

Remove thy mask
Disrobe the facade
Moments of solitude
Minutes of nothingness

Longing to take a breath
With no where to go
Wanting to sit a while
Nowhere to be

Hold it
Wait for it

Release the valve

Stay a while and be
Content with yourself
Let seconds pass you by
You’ll catch up the hours

Take in that which you miss
You must it has missed you too
Absorb the tranquility
Arouse each sense

Craziness
Is not taking a moment

When you need it most

Being consumed by too much
To not know solace and comfort
In moments of serenity
360 degrees 60 ticks
Of peaceful nothing

Thoughts For Company by ©Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

There are so many different aspects to women and the introspection and thoughtfulness in this lovely image touched me.

the weight of life moving forward without you by ©ShadowDancer

A thoughtful and beautiful poem, perfectly encapsulating the mood Geraldine's image (above).

While butterflies make love on the tips of sunbeams,
my toes sink into the moist moss near the creek,
its crystalline waters move into a symphony
as it soothes its own speckled rocks,
and the scent of honeysuckle seduces the world.

I watch this day pass in slow motion;
I feel the weight of everything that surrounds me,
tasting the heavy flavor of life moving on…

and I wonder
will we ever be together?

Back to earth by ©catrinarno

And here's yet another aspect of what it means to be a woman. There's romance but there's more to this. It's back to earth with the prize held tightly. Fabulous image, wonderful colours and just that little something extra. :-)

Word Versus Word by ©H M Bascom

An amazing poem full of truth and the duality of life.

I read a word
it was not a big word
four letters
no more

but this word
though not a big word
had power
to hurt

I wrote a word
a really big word
four letters
no less

and this word
was such a big word
with power
to heal

Feel by ©dorina costras

And here is sensuality and enjoyment in it. The colours and movement in this are wonderful and the message is just what we need to hear, guiltfree and beautiful.

When You Were Born by ©Kristin Reynolds

This really touched me. I still remember that first moment of laying eyes on my son, of holding him. It's something you never forget.

The moment that my eyes laid claim
to every atom that makes you
beheld upon your ancient face—
each pore, each crease, each shining truth!—

was when my journey to this time,
this when and where became love clear,
that every hurt which spat me out
was meant to bring my love to here.

Each lifetime I give birth to you
(my greatest gift and work of art!)
and as you search my fervent eyes
I see within my own true heart—

it is this now, right now I see
in your sweet face that time is naught,
we have but now, this perfect breath;
you’re every answer I once sought.

And as we lay skin touching skin
beneath this sky we are but one,
just you and I, love, always here:
a mother and her newborn son.

Run your fingers, through my soul by ©madworld

I have to say, the first thing that attracted me to this image was the poetic title. Don't we all wish for this closeness? The image perfectly shows this. The simplicity of it makes it all the more touching.

Pecking Order by ©Jenifer DeBellis

Intriguing and thought provoking poetry.

It was just plain Weird

to witness nature in action
completely out of context.

A sea of words
can paint
a single gesture
of body language,
yet how many will see
the intentions
of a premeditated mind?

To find a place to hang
the hat of reason
is the kind of challenge
most won’t even
go out on a limb for.

While breadcrumbs leave a trail
on the floor of a hungry babe’s
fountain of understanding,
only the light of revelation
will illuminate
the tree of knowledge.

Papa bird waits for
Mama’s call of warning
that never reaches the wind
in time to derail
the runaway train.

Here the tide washes in,
reeking in ways
that can’t be explained
with a small handful
of pearly, cute-shaped words.

The night owl
watches from a branch
just beyond sight,
mumbling warnings
about the day’s last flight
into the dawn of reality.

It was the weirdest thing
to witness, and weirder still
was the eerie silence.

Even the wind died on deaf ears.

i don't mind waiting... by ©clancy214

And here the finale - what a lovely image, so full of longing and hope and fulfillment. Perfect to end the features. :-)

Bitter Sweet by ©Vickie Bodie

Beautiful poem, thoughtful, and, yes, bitter sweet. Do you remember your first kiss?

Should each bit of Life
Be tasted like a Kiss
Bitter Sweet

Yet linger on
the end of the tongue
tasted off the lip

Full of desire and Passion
with the purity
of the innocents

Or

Should it be like
the fire that burns
within that first kiss

Should that first kiss then
be the only kiss
and remain
Bitter Sweet

Enjoy!

Poetry Features 17/11 2010

I Am by valentina63

In the shiny house that is my family

I have been

The spare room receptacle,

of the superfluous and chaotic.

In the healthy body that is my family

I have been

The liver, enlarged and diseased,

distiller of the toxic.

In the band of miners that is my family

I have been;

The caged canary sent in solo,

singing silent in the darkness.

In the small regiment that is my family

I have been

The loyal foot soldier with bayonet,

bludgeoned out of the trenches and over the top.

In the flock of geese that is my family

I have been

Forever flying last in formation,

tending to the fallen.

But today in the bright epiphany of morning

I am

the creator tenderly joining

each precious jigsaw piece of past,

and seeing for the first time how

each piece of who

I have been

is essential to my Zeitgeist

part of who

I am

© Valentina63 2009

The Woman by Kristin Reynolds

See the woman.

See the face behind its age.

See the beauty of her form.

See the way her way becomes her.

See past her once taught skin, as it was

when it enflamed many a man.

See the way she holds her head;

the tilt of her neck, the ease

of her being.

See the strength that binds her jaw,

unrelenting in its flex.

See her hurt displayed as shadows

falling like night upon the earth,

eager for rest and resolution—

retribution for the ones

she could not save.

See her darkness—see it well.

See it shatter like glass glinting

when she giggles like a girl.

See her shine

as the shades of dark days rise.

See the years that grace her eyes,

like rays of her own drawn sun

exponentially shining forth.

See forgiveness in her patient hands

as they weave memories with a touch.

See the breadth of her breasts, unapologetic

for they have quenched her children’s hunger,

soothed their frantic cries,

and became the safe haven for her beloved

on his rough seas of broken days.

See her empty, scarred abdomen—

round and perfect in its imperfections,

once holding the essence of all things,

carrying creation within:

see the divine home of God.

See the innocent baby,

the impetuous youth,

the voluptuous woman,

the devoted wife,

the selfless mother.

See the wisdom of the grandmother—

the epitome of every moment lived

for someone else and at last

for her:

the realization of the circle.

Hear the acceptance in her sigh.

See the gifts she has given—

see the woman!

See the goddess!

The beginning and The End!

See the infinite that bares the name,

Woman!

See her for all that she is and isn’t.

Smell her scent and know you are home.

Taste the strength of her words on your tongue.

Hear her experiences like your own.

To touch her being is to touch perpetuity.

See her face in your mirror.

See the tears that fall proudly

upon the woman you’ve become,

and hope yet to become in time—

or the tears that fall upon the heart

who loves or has loved such

a woman, honoring her still with

your love.

When you have lived

through all that has been set before you;

when you enter that perfect union, and

timeless ancestry;

when you become,

when you come full circle

you will see yourself in all things,

and your journey

will see you

home.

© Kristin Reynolds 2008

The Scar by autumnwind

violent invasion

humiliation

degradation

showering burning the skin

forcing each drop to seep in

to every molecule of the body

the soul cleaning

absolving

extracting the foul unfair nefarious dark intruder

of dreams

screams

into the infinite of why’s

spitting

gagging

regurgitating

eliminating that which blocks the sun

IT

cannot be undone

the barrage of pain

the thunder of anger

cannot be released

in an echo of cries

in the emptiness of when tears are done

and all seems numb

there are no answers

there is only time…

forgiveness

and healing

that never comes

© autumnwind 2010

Songs Of The Universe by H.M.Bascom

Beyond our vision

Below the threshold

Of human perception

The Universe sings

You are 14 billion years old

Stars shine in your eyes

The fabric of the cosmos

Revealed in synaptic patterns

That expand exponentially

With each breath

One memory

One love

One life

at a time

© H.M.Bascom 2010

I am too much myself to change for another by sunrisegirl

^{How it was.}

You used to look at me in a way that made me feel warm inside.

Just to be around you felt like coming home.

The love in your eyes showed a soft tenderness and closeness to me,

it reflected the love we shared… which was so deep, pure, and true…

Your smile displayed an enormous relief for my company,

and yet you were just innocently happy…

Occassionally, I remember, you would be so overcome with joy in my company, emotions would bubble up from deep inside your self, and you would cry with happiness and joy…

^{I felt the same inside.}

Although I could not show it as you did… I did…

Daily, I would experience the most beautiful feelings and emotions…

Constantly feeling a higher love and much deeper affection than I had felt before…

^{Now it is different.}

Time has led you to grow weary of me.

You want me to be more like you, less like me.

When we fight, it is like hell.

When we don’t, we do not talk.

I am too much myself to change for another.

I still love you…

This is the end.

© sunrisegirl 2010

Rocky Horror at Midnight by Margaret Bryant

We went to see

Rocky Horror at midnight,

three women past our primes

convinced we were still

Oh.

So.

Cool.

But those

Damned Kids wouldn’t keep it down,

running amok in the aisles, acting out

scenes they didn’t know all the lines to.

A half-assed job of revelry—

We did it right in my day.

Boys in lingerie borrowed from grandma

forced us to do the “Time Warp.”

Again.

We glared, we hissed,

No means no!

as their insistent hands pried us

from our cozy seats,

one by one.

Was this ever fun?

A cowboy caricature

with pencilled-in sideburns

and a star around his eye

bummed a cigarette,

slobbered on our hands,

and called us each

“Ma’am.”

We are getting too old for this.

Mason, Rocky Horror at Midnight 2

Later I found the rice we brought

to throw at the wedding

in the movie

forgotten in the bottom of my purse.

How had we had missed that scene?

© Margaret Bryant