Posts
Each time I look through the gallery and the all the writing that
comes in I am struck by the variety of emotions, the mix of happy and
sad, and everything in between that is expressed in both word and image.
However, there are some recurring themes, which I feel make our
‘foundations’, the structures we build our lives on and also those that
errode us from within.
There’s this inner strength many of us have, be it of the playful and happy kind that comes from believing in ourselves…
You wanna play with me… by © Nicolette Thain
…or the sheer bloody mindedness that makes us take a stand against all odds…
Never give in by © su2anne
I’m a lone she wolf.
Fangs bared
Eyes blood red. My
Auburn coat matted. A
Dull brown under the
Cool winter’s light. The
Moon my silent and only
Witness. One
Ear cocked for my
Injured silver grey mate. I’m
Enraged that you
Threaten my
Den! My kith and
Kin. How
Dare you bastards
Relentlessly attack my
Strong and loyal one? For
Days I have
Constantly circled. A
Track worn in the
Earth for my dedication. My
Left hind leg hangs
Limp from an old injury. My
Belly contracted from
Hunger. Ribs
Striated. Back bone
Knobbed. So thirsty.
No matter.
BRING IT ON! You
Want a fight;
“THEN COME ON YOU
BASTARDS! I
Smell your
Fear. I
Hear your grunting!
Pigs the lot of you!” You
Dare breach my
Boundary and I’ll
Tear you to
Shreds! I
Will not deign to
Feast on your
Guts. Too
Foul for my taste. I’ll
Spread them as a
Reminder to your
Cohorts…
Tired. Alone.
No pack. I
Will not give up. I am
Relentless. I am a
She wolf.
our capacity for suffering and pain…
Mary’s lament by © Maree Cardinale
our skill in turning even this pain into something creative and worthwhile…
The Blue by © MaryMac
the sun is out today
plenty of time to roam
i’am walking around
no destination in mind
the only way in life
i’ve known
the road of what does
the future hold
i fill mine
with paper and ink
sun and rain
i get wet
but i don’t cry
the sun doesn’t know
the reason why
the sun doesn’t know
the difference between
a wealthy man
and a lacking one
the only life
i know
is moving around
the blue
perhaps you don’t know
what laughter is
spend enough time with me
you’ll find out
my humor
my knowledge
perceive the way
i see
i believe
in my world the sun has purple poka dots
the moon is made of parmesan cheese
cows make chocolate milk
everyone likes to sing
i don’t know
the reasons why
there’s something
in the path
which traces the clouds
in the sky
like a circle
there is no end
it’s a pursuit
we all enter in
the sun doesn’t know
the reason why
my future is filled
with paper and ink
the sun doesn’t know
the difference
the only life
i know
is moving around
the blue
our well of happiness and laughter and making the most of the moment…
A Real Portrait by © Valerie Rosen
the friendships we form and hold onto….
A Poplar tree and a Sprig of Friendship by © SimplyRed
I like to watch the stars at night
a gentle Autumn breeze chills my face
I hear the Poplar trees bare of leaves
their click clacking slender branches
echo into the darkness
I flick through my days thoughts
in rythm with the trees
smiling a smile of thanks for life….
and all it entails …. the unspoilt friendships
formed from earthy solidness
the quiet moments
with no beginning no end
I know not how friendships form
THEY JUST ARE……..
a warm smile a kind word
a gesture where words are not spoken
nor needed…..
friendship gives me warm fuzzies
like Gran’s cooking or a snuggly rug
a knowing smile and memories for me to treasure
laughter shared, no explaination needed
IT JUST IS……….
some friendships are hard work
others take time to get to where they need to be
and some have been there for infinity
or so it seems…
you my sweet friend
are there amongst the Poplar trees
my click clack thoughts
swaying gently in the breeze
no date , no time no years numbered
YOU JUST ARE………..YOU
xxxx
our cuirousity for the world around us, the things we can see and those we cannot….
searching by © LisaMM
our willingness to heal and become whole again, often despite ourselves….
mirage by © Cynthia Lund Torroll
Perhaps it’s because I imagined it
for so long that when it happened it
didn’t quite register.
Or just as likely, and this part is a bit sad,
I didn’t feel that I deserved that -
didn’t feel somewhere deep to be worthy of
something that profound.
I won’t hurt myself for that. I won’t ruminate
on why. The old wounds slowly close on their own.
Just by noting them and giving them a slight layer of
light seems to help hasten them along.
But that’s not my point really, not actually my goal.
They can stay crazily. They are mostly benign,
except when noting them against this opposite force,
seeing how greatly they contrast with the thing that
I’ve most wanted and cherished. So I have to laugh out loud
really. I have to say repeat please, because I was in some sort of
ten-second delay. The old heart wouldn’t quite let my new one hear,
take in, or comprehend what I thought I had just heard. And for the record,
not that one really needs keeping, because this stretches back and beyond,
well, you know what I’d have said, and who knows, I might have actually
combusted because just hearing that ghost note, hearing that echo, which now
rings so loud and true through my whole being is almost too
incredible to bear.
Almost.
Happily, almost.
the way emptiness sometimes rules us until we find something to fill it….
Empty emotions by © strawberries
and the way life and death seem to be close and part of our everyday lives…
Sex and Death by © Nancy Joan
Laughter fills the room so tears don’t
Fine jagged line dividing my balcony
Passion isn’t so far from pain
Remove the sensual, the sexual,
The orgasm and one plus one
Equals one and the same
Fourteen stories up
Enfolded in your arms
I’m standing two steps from the edge
And the ground doesn’t seem so far to fall
Stepping out of borrowed skin
Unsure of the rules of attack
Bible on hotel bedside table
And so we are back to religion
Need does not play a part in our game
Whatever it be called, a game it remains
A broomstick would suffice
But it all it comes down to how you angle the handle
Fourteen stories up
Enfolded in your arms
I’m standing two steps from the edge
And the ground doesn’t seem so far to fall
So I’m falling now
No, not falling, flying
Soaring over the valleys below
White skin with sweat filled hollows
Circling downwards ever further to
Land on the soft flesh rising below
Fourteen stories up
Enfolded in your arms
I’m standing two steps from the edge
And the ground doesn’t seem so far to fall
finally, our immense capacity for love…
LOVE by © Ingz
and for accepting what is.
What It Is by © RC deWinter
Love means many things to people,
and much of that has to do with age
and experience and the life you live.
To a child, love is security,
that warm blanket that enfolds it
when wrapped in its mother’s arms.
To a young and giggly teenage girl
it’s the thought of tangling braces
with that cute guy in science class;
to that same boy, who doesn’t yet
give a shit about real girls,
it’s the feeling he gets when he sees a hot car
or an even hotter airbrushed picture in a skin mag.
As they get older, these ideas of love will change.
The girl, now a young woman,
loves the man who brings her flowers,
who tells her she’s beautiful,
that’s she’s everything he ever wanted
without quite understanding or explaining why.
The young man sees a pretty face, a curvy body
and is convinced that only this will make him happy.
Time’s wheel rolls on, heedless of the human heart.
Some of that luster dims.
There are no more flowers;
the pretty face begins to fade
into the resignation of familiarity.
But when you’ve lived long enough,
your life shadowed by misperceptions,
disappointments and regrets,
you finally learn that flowers, youth
and pretty words mean nothing.
You know, at last, love is
a fire in the heart,
the soul,
the loins,
the mind.
You learn there should be no regard
for convenience,
suitability
or anything else
but the conviction
that your life will never be complete
without the other.
Please let the artists and writers know if you have enjoyed their work. Make someone’s day. :-)
There’s this inner strength many of us have, be it of the playful and happy kind that comes from believing in ourselves…
You wanna play with me… by © Nicolette Thain
…or the sheer bloody mindedness that makes us take a stand against all odds…
Never give in by © su2anne
I’m a lone she wolf.
Fangs bared
Eyes blood red. My
Auburn coat matted. A
Dull brown under the
Cool winter’s light. The
Moon my silent and only
Witness. One
Ear cocked for my
Injured silver grey mate. I’m
Enraged that you
Threaten my
Den! My kith and
Kin. How
Dare you bastards
Relentlessly attack my
Strong and loyal one? For
Days I have
Constantly circled. A
Track worn in the
Earth for my dedication. My
Left hind leg hangs
Limp from an old injury. My
Belly contracted from
Hunger. Ribs
Striated. Back bone
Knobbed. So thirsty.
No matter.
BRING IT ON! You
Want a fight;
“THEN COME ON YOU
BASTARDS! I
Smell your
Fear. I
Hear your grunting!
Pigs the lot of you!” You
Dare breach my
Boundary and I’ll
Tear you to
Shreds! I
Will not deign to
Feast on your
Guts. Too
Foul for my taste. I’ll
Spread them as a
Reminder to your
Cohorts…
Tired. Alone.
No pack. I
Will not give up. I am
Relentless. I am a
She wolf.
our capacity for suffering and pain…
Mary’s lament by © Maree Cardinale
our skill in turning even this pain into something creative and worthwhile…
The Blue by © MaryMac
the sun is out today
plenty of time to roam
i’am walking around
no destination in mind
the only way in life
i’ve known
the road of what does
the future hold
i fill mine
with paper and ink
sun and rain
i get wet
but i don’t cry
the sun doesn’t know
the reason why
the sun doesn’t know
the difference between
a wealthy man
and a lacking one
the only life
i know
is moving around
the blue
perhaps you don’t know
what laughter is
spend enough time with me
you’ll find out
my humor
my knowledge
perceive the way
i see
i believe
in my world the sun has purple poka dots
the moon is made of parmesan cheese
cows make chocolate milk
everyone likes to sing
i don’t know
the reasons why
there’s something
in the path
which traces the clouds
in the sky
like a circle
there is no end
it’s a pursuit
we all enter in
the sun doesn’t know
the reason why
my future is filled
with paper and ink
the sun doesn’t know
the difference
the only life
i know
is moving around
the blue
our well of happiness and laughter and making the most of the moment…
A Real Portrait by © Valerie Rosen
the friendships we form and hold onto….
A Poplar tree and a Sprig of Friendship by © SimplyRed
I like to watch the stars at night
a gentle Autumn breeze chills my face
I hear the Poplar trees bare of leaves
their click clacking slender branches
echo into the darkness
I flick through my days thoughts
in rythm with the trees
smiling a smile of thanks for life….
and all it entails …. the unspoilt friendships
formed from earthy solidness
the quiet moments
with no beginning no end
I know not how friendships form
THEY JUST ARE……..
a warm smile a kind word
a gesture where words are not spoken
nor needed…..
friendship gives me warm fuzzies
like Gran’s cooking or a snuggly rug
a knowing smile and memories for me to treasure
laughter shared, no explaination needed
IT JUST IS……….
some friendships are hard work
others take time to get to where they need to be
and some have been there for infinity
or so it seems…
you my sweet friend
are there amongst the Poplar trees
my click clack thoughts
swaying gently in the breeze
no date , no time no years numbered
YOU JUST ARE………..YOU
xxxx
our cuirousity for the world around us, the things we can see and those we cannot….
searching by © LisaMM
our willingness to heal and become whole again, often despite ourselves….
mirage by © Cynthia Lund Torroll
Perhaps it’s because I imagined it
for so long that when it happened it
didn’t quite register.
Or just as likely, and this part is a bit sad,
I didn’t feel that I deserved that -
didn’t feel somewhere deep to be worthy of
something that profound.
I won’t hurt myself for that. I won’t ruminate
on why. The old wounds slowly close on their own.
Just by noting them and giving them a slight layer of
light seems to help hasten them along.
But that’s not my point really, not actually my goal.
They can stay crazily. They are mostly benign,
except when noting them against this opposite force,
seeing how greatly they contrast with the thing that
I’ve most wanted and cherished. So I have to laugh out loud
really. I have to say repeat please, because I was in some sort of
ten-second delay. The old heart wouldn’t quite let my new one hear,
take in, or comprehend what I thought I had just heard. And for the record,
not that one really needs keeping, because this stretches back and beyond,
well, you know what I’d have said, and who knows, I might have actually
combusted because just hearing that ghost note, hearing that echo, which now
rings so loud and true through my whole being is almost too
incredible to bear.
Almost.
Happily, almost.
the way emptiness sometimes rules us until we find something to fill it….
Empty emotions by © strawberries
and the way life and death seem to be close and part of our everyday lives…
Sex and Death by © Nancy Joan
Laughter fills the room so tears don’t
Fine jagged line dividing my balcony
Passion isn’t so far from pain
Remove the sensual, the sexual,
The orgasm and one plus one
Equals one and the same
Fourteen stories up
Enfolded in your arms
I’m standing two steps from the edge
And the ground doesn’t seem so far to fall
Stepping out of borrowed skin
Unsure of the rules of attack
Bible on hotel bedside table
And so we are back to religion
Need does not play a part in our game
Whatever it be called, a game it remains
A broomstick would suffice
But it all it comes down to how you angle the handle
Fourteen stories up
Enfolded in your arms
I’m standing two steps from the edge
And the ground doesn’t seem so far to fall
So I’m falling now
No, not falling, flying
Soaring over the valleys below
White skin with sweat filled hollows
Circling downwards ever further to
Land on the soft flesh rising below
Fourteen stories up
Enfolded in your arms
I’m standing two steps from the edge
And the ground doesn’t seem so far to fall
finally, our immense capacity for love…
LOVE by © Ingz
and for accepting what is.
What It Is by © RC deWinter
Love means many things to people,
and much of that has to do with age
and experience and the life you live.
To a child, love is security,
that warm blanket that enfolds it
when wrapped in its mother’s arms.
To a young and giggly teenage girl
it’s the thought of tangling braces
with that cute guy in science class;
to that same boy, who doesn’t yet
give a shit about real girls,
it’s the feeling he gets when he sees a hot car
or an even hotter airbrushed picture in a skin mag.
As they get older, these ideas of love will change.
The girl, now a young woman,
loves the man who brings her flowers,
who tells her she’s beautiful,
that’s she’s everything he ever wanted
without quite understanding or explaining why.
The young man sees a pretty face, a curvy body
and is convinced that only this will make him happy.
Time’s wheel rolls on, heedless of the human heart.
Some of that luster dims.
There are no more flowers;
the pretty face begins to fade
into the resignation of familiarity.
But when you’ve lived long enough,
your life shadowed by misperceptions,
disappointments and regrets,
you finally learn that flowers, youth
and pretty words mean nothing.
You know, at last, love is
a fire in the heart,
the soul,
the loins,
the mind.
You learn there should be no regard
for convenience,
suitability
or anything else
but the conviction
that your life will never be complete
without the other.
Please let the artists and writers know if you have enjoyed their work. Make someone’s day. :-)
