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Posted: 7/12/2007 2:09:38 AM | Yoko, I'm enjoying reading these poems again, gathered into one place.
southern comfort
the lowcountry
of timeless swamp
liveoaks wear
their mossy shawls
the moon hangs low
in a southern sky
so long ago
I danced in your light
star dazzled eyes
on a magical night
buoyant warm water
bare skin
clothing flung
on the southern cross
but I was twenty something
then
bewitched
by seduction's hunt
and swooning
in your humid
hands
LS 7/12/07
also posted in Daily Poet | |
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Posted: 7/12/2007 9:01:55 AM |  Morning friend! Enjoyed reading these again, today!
Imaginings of fluid colours so real
filling a canvas of the things that I feel
Emerald greens , lavish grounds of soft green
Purples and pinks.....magically make skies never seen!
Flowing like heaven .......a lovely Weeping Willow tree
Colours of greens melted in with some ivory...........
Flowers more brilliant than the eye has ever seen
poking up sweetly like a song in a dream
Sunshine so warm.....that it melts the sweet heart
colours the warmest yellows, oranges, of light
Knowing all of this within my mind
Imagining what on the canvas , I may find
Inspiration came unto me this week
from a dear friend.....with her paintings
she speaks!
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 7/12/2007 9:19:59 AM | Brizo…Southern Comfort ….took a sip. Thanks for a long cool drink on a hot summer day.
Jules…finger painting is therapeutic body language. I love yours! | |
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Posted: 7/12/2007 11:45:34 AM | Thanks my friend....I am contemplating a trip down to Southern Ohio....I have not visited long time...since my Ma died! I shall take a sketch pad...and I shall draw up some heaven...bring it home for my .....canvas session!
Beauty in nature....lovely things to behold
Old country barns....wildlife always bold
Lovely pictures I conjure up in my mind
The trip I shall savor...for I shall sketch each in mind
Hills so high...they sing angels songs
Lovely trees...and streams
like no ones ever known
Beauty in old barns....old houses ......
People with smiles...that don't ask for much
Horses and cows......and lovely deer all in view!
Imagine the glory of this all in one day!
Owls in the barn........
whipperwhills in the night
songs of nature....bring such beauty in sight!
I cannot think of a better way
to set my heart to canvas.......
for I love this display!
I shall visit ....then I shall set up my canvas
enjoying each moment of the beauty
outlandish!!!!!!!!
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Posted: 7/12/2007 9:06:33 PM | Jules...happy trails down country roads
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A Sketch
Come closer
You can’t see
The nuance
From the back row
See how the gradual
Shading
Here and here
Renders weary the
Pursed lips eclipsing
An ambitious jaw
Or pensive strokes
Of somber hues that
Carve the brow
Like a caravan
Parading
Misplaced content
But here…
See how the
Boxed lights
Pierce ambient orbs
Absorbed and
History
Unfolds | |
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Posted: 7/13/2007 2:27:19 PM | Patterns
Born a water sign
Wave thrashing cliff to
Cloud and snow and rain
Rushing mountain stream
To ocean arms again
It is not rage
I am a paradigm. | |
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Posted: 7/13/2007 4:16:53 PM | 
Wonder if I could paint a heart?
One so deeply feeling life
Just one heart for me alone
Knowing what I already know
Capture dreams inside his face
Live each moment in his smile
Lavish in his lovely eyes
Inviting arms where I could reside?
Wonder is a magical thing........
Art is something magical as well
To paint this man...his face ...his heart!
His smile....I might just paint ...alot!
Sometimes dreams come true...is true!
I hope I paint a face of you!
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Posted: 7/13/2007 4:59:20 PM | Love in Watercolor
You and I are like a watercolor abstraction.
This pattern was not accomplished
By skill, planning or forethought.
Rather, our tears fell on the same canvas,
Snatched colors and ran frantically
Until the lines intersected, blended,
Bled into the other,
And became kaleidoscope image
Reflecting the results of you and I
Meeting in what was empty space.
(reposted from Free Verse Poetry Festival - but it seemed appropriate. | |
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Posted: 7/13/2007 5:36:44 PM | Jules...when you are painting, don't forget the rest of the torso... anatomical correctness is at the mercy of the painter. LOL
REM...thanks for posting here. You're right. It fits perfectly!  | |
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Posted: 7/13/2007 6:08:38 PM |
whooooooooooohooooooooooooo....you are so right my friend!!!!!!!
Anatomical correctness is such a good blend!!!!!!!!!!!
My heart says to make him big and strong.........
Arms of a soldier........
Legs hard and strong!!!!!!!!!!!
Now we get to the feel of the pic.............
A really long.....wonderful ....big long****!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  '
Now I am embarresed but glad just the same................
I went and said it.......no Problem..............I'm lame!!!!!!!!!!!!
lolll....
Then on to the chest....so strong and so hairy........
smile of an angel...........a little bit scary............
lips of some sweet thing....I remember afar..........
the Ass of a hard man.......I remember.......so hard!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Posted: 7/13/2007 9:29:02 PM | Jules...I prefer girth LOL
_________________________________________
Picasso
Lately I’ve been thinking
About artists
Painters, poets,
Sculptors, composers
The medium irrelevant
Control freaks really
Dispired by reality
We shapeshift
By brush and pen and note
Erase, contort, deface
A mind here
A heart there
Conspiring
Sacrilegious
Little gods
We distill
Madness | |
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Posted: 7/13/2007 10:09:12 PM | I really like that last one, yoko.
Self-expression must always be tinged with self-love, mustn't it--
and an engaged survival instinct.
I realized that when I started practicing guitar.
You can't play long before it becomes a creative exercise
At that point, you're the kind of mad-scientist composer,
spoken of in the poem. But, of course, we don't mean any harm.
We, ourselves, merely fighting for sanity. | |
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Posted: 7/14/2007 2:04:28 PM | Thanks for that insight Bic!
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Stained Glass
Dazed she stumbles barefoot
Through frozen words shattered
The hem of her nightgown bleeding
she strips off a piece of flesh
drapes it over the
long cathedral window
and closes the door to a room
once glorified by the sun
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Posted: 7/14/2007 10:33:40 PM | Still Life
It’s past midnight
The amusement park lights extinguish
Barkers hoarse from screaming go home
Teddy bear and ice cream concessions
Closed
Feeling deserted, the wind
plays among discarded wrappers
recklessly lifting the distant sound of
children laughing to the brooding dead
Nightly this desolate wind spins
faster and faster, round and round
wailing a soulful tune till
prancing ponies
with reflective eyes
begin to rise and fall
awakening the shadows
still riding the carousel | |
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Posted: 7/15/2007 1:24:49 AM | | WOW Yoko! Still Life was so vivid and emotional for me! You captured that desolate wind so perfectly in there!! | |
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Posted: 7/15/2007 10:27:39 AM | | Thanks Sister T... I love the wind too! | |
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Posted: 7/15/2007 11:11:39 AM | | what a perfect and poetic name for this special nook and cranny of this vast and roiling ocean!!!! LOVE your graceful strokes, you really do apply your words in swirls of softness and eddies of imagery......tenderly, touching your canvas with sorrowful eyes, but triumphant soul..... you have survived, all the richer.... and thank you so much for sharing your fortune.... it's lovely to be here. | |
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Posted: 7/15/2007 12:09:40 PM | | Thanks poetic. I've watched you spread your special brand of encouragement around this pond and I am grateful you stopped in here as well! Come back anytime. | |
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Posted: 7/15/2007 12:10:23 PM | Drawing Room
Laying in this bed
of a thousand what ifs
it takes all the resolve
I can draw upon to quiet
these anxious fingers
from playing your
tune on the dial pad
Sleep deprived
audible delusions fill
the void and I imagine your
Hello
“you had me from hello” | |
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Posted: 7/15/2007 12:46:53 PM | | Upon second thought, discretion is the better part of valor.....hang in there sweetie........... | |
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Posted: 7/15/2007 1:55:10 PM | well, at my age it takes some time to get around..... so glad I got here too....
especially for " see how the boxed lights pierce ambient orbs absorbed"..... took my breath away.....yep, it all starts to unfurl.......... you painted the moment perfectly. | |
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Posted: 7/15/2007 3:31:39 PM | Ah...poetic...that was the sketch of a face I never tire of finger tracing. Thanks.  | |
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Posted: 7/15/2007 7:42:16 PM | EXPRESSIONISM
(not a watercolour)
I’ve never been content
Painting with the dulcet tones
Of watercolors and pastels
Not enough definition
I can’t strike the canvas
In anger or sadness or joy
Which is of course why I paint
I prefer bolder, more alarming colors
Sometimes brandishing the brush like
a French-cuffed fencer. Slashing,
cutting, edging, underscoring the shape
of things that were, or are yet to come
Or can never be
Other times the brush becomes
a magic wand and like Merlin
I stand at the precipice and
conjure black to raven or
turn envy to dragon’s breath
the timid to immortal
And often the brush becomes
Maestro’s orchestral baton
swishing through the air
vibrato, arpeggio, adagio,
diva, tenor, liquid voices
violin, flute, cello, harp,
bassoon, piccolo, tympani
mellifluous weeping
Butterfly’s canvas opera | |
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Posted: 7/15/2007 7:44:30 PM | Luvin' the writes over here!/beautiful thread Yoko
Paint me if you must...
just another delusional fool
as the trembling ink
floods the page in harmonious prose....
And what one may deem as 'madness,'
another deems as an absolute joy,
So paint me if you must, but with every color of the rainbow
extracting
purifying
heaven's kiss descending as you go.....
And if you must paint me,
then paint all of me...
With melancholic drops that trickle down the pen
stenciled in
and absorbing the grey tones of my heart
when inspiration gets lost
in the bondage and constraints placed on that vital part....
So if you feel you must paint me,
you must paint 'all' of me.... | |
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