Stories in my head #poetry

golden fountain

spillway of imagination

words turbulent and frenzied

the hero anxious in the wings

 villain threatens with aplomb

a hushed sense of what’s next

blood and tears fall

innocence fleas the shadowed way

a woman saves the day

the sun rises all is well

time  is small in my hand

I brandish my weapon

 pen cuts through the marrow

***

Hours with sand and paint

dust particles tease the light

my mind writes

The prompt this week at Poet’s United is Conquest (or Conqueror). The writer holds so much in her hand – the pen a mighty weapon.

 

Childhood Memories #atozchallenge

paint palette

color in the memories

painful black and white

 reality is so cold

mix the paint

makes it right

swirl acrylic

round and round

covers the hurt

helps lost to be found

color in the memories

no more black and white

cover the memories

it’ll be alright

***

I’ve worked with enough children who were abused, thrown away, tormented to candy coat pain. Children have an amazing resilience to pain perhaps it’s the imagination that can erase awful memories. Just think how wonderful those imaginations are without pain.

M

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Monet and Poplars #haiku #art

 

Gathering my thoughts

my paints loathe to follow

poplar dreams

*

sky color palette

cloud influenced impression

Monet found

*

canvas dry

I miss my poplar print

no more tears

 

Monet influenced so many writers and artists and continues to do so. The Carpe Diem prompt is “Poplars”

Study of the artist #art #painting #poetry

 

The artist’s eye

capturing color

creating a smile

*

what does he display

palette and paint

life to portray

**

a story he is writing

with strokes of  a brush

others he’s inviting

 

artist at work

I have been around artists all of my life. They are an unusual breed. Some like to be in the public as they study and paint while others like to be alone as creation (to them) is a solitary business. The artist of old could not rely on a photograph to capture a scene so many artists would paint on-site or have an incredible photographic memory.

Today’s poem is a preface to a month where I will feature art and the artist on Friday Feature.

Living Art #photography #poetry

Entering the portico

I am greeted with buzzing bees

a chorus written on my behalf

sung by the local cheep choir

once tended, the garden is alive with color

the old oak door opens to a living gallery

each painting familiar

smiling eyes look at me

flowers beckon for my approval

the easel creaks a “welcome home”

paints squeezed out on the palette

dance with joy at my perusal

burgundy, ochre, midnight blue cartwheel

It is a lively place this world of art

I know each piece by name

they know my voice, my laugh, my sigh

we understand each other

when I am gone 

this is where I long to be

 

leslie from painting

 

The delightful writing prompt at the DP Daily challenge is Living Art. (One day, your favorite piece of art — a famous painting or sculpture, the graffiti next door — comes to life. What happens next?)

The world of art has been my companion since birth. It is always warm and alive and as part of me as I am it. (The painting of the girl is a much younger me!)

 

 

Photography: Original Oil Paintings by Clare

 

 

Life’s Canvas #art #poetry #photography

lane to the stable

Her art took on a new beauty

rust etched the background

creating a sepia contrast

red, ochre, black ground and mixed

 embedded under her nails

each brush an ally

each painting a well-known friend

 pochade box hinges creaked

suffering its own form of arthritis

and she the master of life’s canvas still

Laurie Kolp’s prompt at Poetry Jam this week was “Rust.” Having just been at my childhood home aka art studio, I felt compelled to write in rust colored ink.

Photograph: “The Lane to the Stable” L. Moon 2013

The oil painting “Stanford Lane”  circa 1980 is the copyright image of Clare

also in my archives some photographs of Rusting Images.