Saturday, September 28, 2013

September 28, 2013 Sunday Whirl #128




First Frost
The air is chilled
A white frost 
Has spilled 
Where the mesa's
Sharp edges sparkle
I do not know the exact
Hour this happened
Nor who is responsible

Perhaps unbidden
Ghosts from the hillside
Gathered to create
Such a transformation
The sky a pristine
Blue patch
Over nature's 
Temple
I fall to my 
Knees to worship

The bees
Did not swarm
The Russian Sage
This morning
Later when
The sun has
Warmed the air
They will come








Prompt:  ghosts, exact, patches, gathered, worship, spill
unbidden, hillside, where, swarm, edges, sharp

Saturday, September 21, 2013

September 21, 2013 Sunday Whirl #127


Fragments G&C  #158  30"x30"  gouache on w/c paper



END OF SUMMER

"End of Summer
I feel wistful"
Not my words
But words I heard
Words that
Repeat and repeat
In my mind
On my breath
Over and over

I thought the words
Might be clues
To stories
That were to come
But instead of spinning
Into something secret
Something new
They only piled up
Along the curb
To be washed away
With the next rain

Peering around me
It is "end of summer"
How to describe
The last day...
The temperature
Has changed
It is cooler
Apples ripen
On the tree
Above adobe casita
Smoke rises
To curl
Against cold blue
Early morning
Wild meadow asters
Bloom lavender


Winter spirits lurk
Claws concealed
Without trace
Give no clue
Of what is to come
My spirit
Remains in exile
"I feel wistful"

Note:  The words, "...end of summer, I feel wistful," are from a beautiful poem by Ase Faugstad,  do not know the name of the poem, I only remember these words.  The image is the last painting I completed.  Fragments G&C #158,  since these paintings are based on the phenomenon of color change, seen in nature, this colorful piece reminded me of a flower garden, "end of summer."  If you isolate each color with your eyes, you will see the color change, red to orange, blue green to yellow green, yellow orange to yellow and red violet to pink.


Prompt:  claws, peering, spirits, stories, apples, secret
cradle, pile, clues, exile, three, rash

Saturday, September 14, 2013

September 14, 2013 Sunday Wordle #126



MASTER 
THE TEACHER
One day with your finger
You wrote "Master"
On my palette
Quietly you left the
Message for me to read

I was spreading sumptuous
Violet across my paper
The color vibrant
A silent suggestion
A vision clear
A single goal

At the time
You were the Master
I was the student
But quietly suggesting
What I could become

It happened
Many years ago
I still keep that
Treasured gift
Of encouragement
Generously given


I give it to others
Every chance I get
In memory of you

Note:  Teachers can inspire, encourage, build up students, or they can destroy.  A good teacher is a treasure.



Prompt:  vivacious, vibrant, vacuous, manipulative, vision, single,
sumptuous, slather, spread, short, sassy, violet, master







Wednesday, September 11, 2013

September 11, 2013 Poets United/Verse First




United Poets: Prompt; Places that I love:



(Images from the Internet)





HOME     
A homebody
At heart
But
I travel each day
In my studio
Go to work
And in my mind’s eye
I might venture
To the Four Corners
Where four states meet
North, south, east and west
Arizona
Utah
New Mexico
Colorado
Home of the Anasazi
Land of history
Ancient old
Land of beauty
Formed eons ago
Beckons
Charms
Enchants
Delights
Return home
Weary traveler
Like Dorothy
Home is where
I love the best


(My own photos, the sun sets in the west.)

Saturday, September 7, 2013

September 7, 2013 Sunday Whirl #125 Traces of the Past/Real Toads/Poets United Pantry#166

San Francisco de Asis, Ranchos de Taos (back view)
(Image from the internet)

Traces of the Past

The world is full of 
Magic and intrigue
Answers you seek 
Can change 
Like the weather
A sunny morning
Becomes 
A rainy afternoon

Stains on the carpet
Leave traces of 
The past
But give no clue
To the future


You can't go home again
You walk the avenue
An individual path
Well worn and used


The sound of the bell 
Often heard 
Heralds things to come
Or call to prayer
At the old adobe church
In the center of town
Sunlight streams
Through open windows

The dimension 
Of the world
You travel 
Depends on you

Note:  San Francisco de Asis, in Rancho de Taos, is the most painted and most photographed church in the United States.








Prompt:  pay, stains, center, bell, dimension, intrigue,
magic, only, used, avenue, answer, change

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
REAL TOADS  Prompt:  ink blots


(image from the internet)

Tea in the Forest

The gentle Deer
Watches me
From sheltered
Hiding place
Behind the tree

As I watch Rabbit
Dressed for tea
Dance the dance
For all to see

Blossoms
A great disguise
For tea
Red flowers in
Your hair

Friends gather
Round
For rituals
Of tea
Has to be done
Just this way
A tradition
You say

You arrive
In time
Past and present
Shake hands
And rhyme

Dressed in your finest
Greenery and wine
Hold out your hands
Embrace everyone

Tea for you
Tea for me
Tea for all
Will the Hatter pour

__________________________________________________________

Poets United Poetry Pantry #166



(Image from the Internet)
GOLDEN COINS
Scratching
Through
The bottom
Of the barrel
Hollow sound
No golden coins

Hole in the toe
Pockets turned
Wrong side out
Resources
Stretched thin
No golden coins

Purse empty
Stares back
Expressionless
Deadbeat
Palms empty
No golden coins

Rainbow's end
With pot of gold
Elusive
Here I sit alone
Bills pile up
Cupboard's bare
No golden coins







Tuesday, September 3, 2013

THE RED SHOES ARTISTS' BOOK PROJECT

500 HANDMADE BOOKS, volume 2.    Juror Julie Chen.  Lark publisher.  

I would like to thank all the poets who participated in this project:  Sherry Marr, Pamela Sayers,
Joy Ann Jones, Ase Faugstad, Elizabeth Crawford, Jar Rose, Michelle Steele, Susan Embry, Kathleen Brennam, Helen Debner, Vivienne Blake, Sandy Carlson, Pat Garthoeffner,  Terresa Wellborn, Barbara Mackenzie, and Marilyn Moorhead.  

Sunday, September 1, 2013

September 1, 2013 Poets United

"Death" Comes for Me

When I was a child
"Death" came as a surprise
Now....I expect it
For myself
And for others

As a child
I heard the word
"Death"
It came
For people
And for animals
They never came back

As a young adult
"Death" was a surprise
Unacceptable
Cause for great sorrow

Now I expect "Death"
Know its' kindness
Know its' necessity
Know its' fairness
Know its' promise

I wait for its' gentle knock
On my door
"Death" comes
For me