Saturday, September 29, 2012

A Poem Again


              THE NATURE OF TIME


Time lives in the dream a lonely person takes to bed,
sits on the twisted finger behind my crochet hook,
grows on the stairs and in the doorways of museums after dark.

Time beckons school children, pregnant women,
and certain Christians.
Time walks to weddings, visits wars, dances at funerals,
shuns no one, deceives many, never sleeps.

Time smiles on mushrooms, prays for trees, punishes fire.
Time looks in the mirror and knows where I am.
Time is a colorless rainbow carving the darkness of space.

                        ******

Friday, September 28, 2012

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Comme Les Fauves

Love this class!

Acrylic 14"x18"

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Saturday, September 22, 2012

The Elder Rapunzel


(someday I will illustrate this)


The golden ladder of my hair,
once enough for several princes,
is brittle now and curls around my chair
before the fire like tired smoke.

My cottage hugs the ground,
a grateful, shipwrecked sailor.
Windowless, I live alone
and have outlived my jailer.

The tower I graced is rubble now,
The sons I bore took root afar.
Once I kept a talking bird;
I have a spider in a jar.

The sunlit beacon of my hair
has dimmed to winter moon,
brittle now around my chair
before the fire, like tired smoke.

Friday, September 21, 2012

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

New Direction - Fauvism



Jeez Louise

Flambay
I'm taking another Athenaeum class with Cathy Grawin: Paint Like the Fauves.  Wonderful fun!  First class last night was Still Life but I still don't like it  much so I took the 'path less painted'.  Next week: Seascapes - Yes!

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Aquarium Visit Today...

...so I dug these out of the watery artchives;




Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

My profile says I am a poet.  This is true.  So I fished this out of 1974 for those who remember him:


YUMMY

Paul Newman is the spirit of a torpedo sandwich,
“Sometimes a Great Notion”.
He oozes Coors, he speaks souptese
and makes the proper impression
on my sanctuary.
A wax paper smile
wraps it uptight
and I am safe again.
(His teeth are calories
to polish up the meal)
And how must
Joanne Woodward feel?

   
 Addendum: Paul died in 2008

Friday, September 7, 2012

Monday, September 3, 2012

Anthrobotany


Tongue sticking out

Yawning

Bedhead

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