Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Long Morning

27 May 2009

These children tell me every way but straight
what hurts and why. While well equipped for this
interpretive work, I tire easily; let down
my guard and them in the process; speak
words I can't take back no matter how I try.
No one told me I could not say, "Here"
and "This is so"; tie the loose ends off neatly,
uncomplicated by the circumstances we've created,
the hurts we cannot undo.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Same Site, New Look

I think most people these days read blogs through aggregators such as Bloglines and wouldn't notice the change, but being an artist, it bugs me to have my websites looking drab, or getting too familiar. So I've made some changes. The title has changed, but only for the sake of the look of the site. It's still the same old

I hope to have some new paintings to post soon. Maybe I should spend more time on that than on redesigning my website, eh?

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Loves Me Not

New painting, just started. More images as it progresses.

It brings to mind loves-me-loves-me-not. That is actually the inspiration for the painting. There are vital nuances--in particular, it's not a picture of romantic love. That seems an important interpretive key to add, given the title of the painting.

As always, it's not yet finished. I think 50% of my paintings are Not Yet Finished. Maybe I'll create a new genre.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009


13 May 2009
Inspired by the Weekend Wordsmith

He put on his uniform
just to get us out of bed,
That's how it seemed to me
as I shielded my eyes from the almost-
eye-level ceiling light--
the top bunk was always mine.
Come morning, Dad never failed,
clad in army green from tip to booted toe,
to wake us with a start, bleary eyed,
wanting just one morning without Reveille.

Tuesday, May 05, 2009


5 May 2009

Now and again I revisit
the anger, see if I can still feel
the grinding implications in my bones,
the grit between my teeth scraping,
wearing away flesh and blood. Resentment remains,
though on the periphery and fading fast.
I learn what it means to die to self
for the sake of Others who pushed me
to the point of chewing bitter, sandy cud
as I contemplate forgiveness; redemption.

The Gift of Giving

Today a surprise came in the mail for me, and I really, really love it. I don't imagine anyone else cares, but I still want to share it, and give my husband a huge pat on the back for picking something for me that I'd have chosen for myself. He has a gift for giving. At least with me. I don't think he's ever gone wrong.

I am very fond of clothing that has something of an international air, and caftans are at the top of my list.

George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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