Showing posts with label found poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label found poetry. Show all posts

Friday, June 28, 2013

poetic therapy


'healing with words' mixed media on canvas 11"x14"

 tired? worn out? in pain?
lost? hopeless?
just a bit confused?
need a break?

 things that heal:
lighting a candle
listening to the music of the rain
the warmth of another
writing it down
a cup of tea (with honey and lemon for extra points)
morning sunshine
water (drink it in, immerse yourself in it,
jump in the puddles)
time with your lovely self - intentional
playing in the studio - no purpose, just fun
that juicy piece of fruit
a piano and cello playing together
getting your hands dirty
giving without expecting anything in return
a good stretch
walking barefoot in the grass
the smell of camp fire in your hair
a glass of red wine
kisses - lots of kisses
a good cry
a good laugh
time
words
 



 quite exhausted 
after an intense week of work on the house.
we made room for the baby,
organized and cleaned everything in sight,
and are now ready to open our home
for lots of visiting friends
for a whole week.
a reminder of the things that
refresh and restore
is in order.
amongst these,
developing a new daily art practice,
loads of stitching,
playing with small abstracts,
finding poetry.

have a wonderful weekend, friends!


'give up' -daily poetry


'little things' -daily poetry





'words to fall' -daily poetry


Saturday, February 11, 2012

finding poetry in demolition



'simplicity is about subtracting the obvious, and adding the meaningful.'

john maeda

'and above all watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.'

roald dahl

bits of visual poetry
found 
amongst the debris.

rich layers
of history
revealed
by scraping through
the dust
and the paint.

may your eyes
uncover
the magic
in humble places
today.



Thursday, January 26, 2012

out of the fire. out of the rock.


two new pieces with history. 

the former,
built upon a page
from an ancient book
that narrowly escaped destruction
by fire
in a castle
in the mountains
of eastern europe
a hundred years
ago.

the latter,
a quest for the essence of the thing
a meditation on
an ode to
a hundred year old
love story.
i find at the heart of it
poetry
about a girl
out of the rock

'no red
on her lips
no gold circles
at her wrists
a human being
she walked the edge.

her hands
rocks
her strong back
straight
silenced
the water and
the red lips
too.

she seemed
to come out of the rock
and to return to it
she
the living spirit of
the morning,
white,
blindingly white,
and the sea
just still,
below.'