Features for week of July 25, 2010

“Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping… waiting… and though unwanted… unbidden… it will stir… open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us… guides us… passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we’d know some kind of peace… but we would be hollow… Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion we’d be truly dead.” by Joss Whedon

The emotion I feel most often when going through the art to choose features is PASSION. I really wanted to bring some new artists/members to feature; what they all have in common is that their piece made me feel passionate about their subject. Some are about love, some life, nature, pain… and they all made me feel something deep inside. I hope you enjoy and feel the passion as well.

Scent of Love by lilynoelle

scent of love by ililynoelle

Dancer by Mieke Boynton

dancer by mieke boynton

She paints by chitrali

She paints,
She paints furiously

.

She paints,
She paints the walls,
With her heart:
All the broken, jagged pieces
That fit nowhere,
All the sharp edges that cut her to bits
She uses,
for brushes..

Dipping into the blood within,
She washes the walls,
with all the parts that make her heart.
To make Art.

She paints,
She paints furiously,
She paints the walls…

The whitewash of Old
remains,
Blackened into her soul,
still.

.

She paints,
She paints the walls,

With her mind:
The pictures in her head
That no one can hear,
Talk to her
In insane colour.
She tells them:“Love”
The pictures turn
Grey,
Go away.

.

She paints,
She paints furiously
She paints the walls…

Tearing into her flesh
Was no avail
The demons still do prevail

.

She paints,
She paints furiously
She paints the walls,

With her soul:
To bring Colour,
She spills her Light
Her very being,
onto the pen.

To write her song,
Upon the walls
That hang,
Blank,
Staring,
Bare,
Mocking,
At her.

.

Her tears.
Her blood.
Her flesh.
Her mind.
Her heart.
Her very soul.
Had no point anymore,
What she had, she’d thrown onto the walls.

With nothing,
She dissipated into the void: no more..

She no longer paints
She no longer paints furiously,
The walls have her..

– Chitrali, July2010

Our Essence by restlessd

the artist suggests that you listen to this as you read

What is our Essence?
Do you know what that might mean?
Is it our soul, our core, our center?
Is it something that can be seen?

Is our Essence transcendent
Beyond ourselves and our being?
Or is it coupled with our body,
In the flesh, beneath our seeing?

Is it breathing, is it sleeping,
Is it quiet, silent dreaming?
Could it be flying, or emoting
Feelings of a peaceful floating.

In looking for an answer.
Some ponder these deep thoughts
With the hope of finding one true path.
To places others may have sought.

Perhaps we already know that place,
Our own life in need of transience.
To know oneself could be the start
Of finding our own true Essence. . .

a rhonda original© 2010

Jacarandas against a Blue Sky by Lozzar Flowers & Art

jacarandas against a blue sky by lozzar flowers and art

Do I Matter? by Leslie Gustafson

do i matter? by leslie gustafson

MY SPIRIT IN PAIN by Paul (Quixote) Alleyne

Each time I see them dying in the thousands
Shot down without regard
Butchered, beaten down
And left to die alone

Each time I see them hurting
Each time I hear them beg to be fed
Voices weak from hunger
Hopeless
Tired
Fear of rape and abuse

And I look around
And I see the world and all its inequities
Its lopsided sharing of wealth
Its lopsided sharing of power
Wealth built on the backs and from the blood
Of all my people

I want to help
But the task is so enormous
I have great doubts
That I can carry the weight of all this sorrow
And my Soul bleeds

I taste their blood on my lips
They wash me in their tears of sadness
They cry out to me
Reach out to me
Hopelessness with no future
Just death
And despair
And disease
And Starvation

And I cannot help
Because my Soul bleeds
And my Spirit is in great pain

Paul Alleyne 12/25/2007

paint by Wingpoem

I’m painting a poem
For you
Right here
In my heart

I’m dipping it
In all the colors of love
I have for you

All the ways I love you

All the flavors
Of giving myself

All the beauty in me
I’ve been keeping
Just for you

Here

Soul-mates by Renate Dartois

soul-mates by renate dartois

She Comes in Colours by Cynthia Lund Torroll

she comes in colours by cynthia lund torroll

Mystery by lianne

I dance in vivid dreams
around the edges of the Mystery
of the universe unfolding,
of ME unfolding, awakening
in ever widening rings of being,
stretching from my sleep,
eyes still closed to try to hold
the luminous visions that drift
between the suns, the moons,
the stars thrown out at random,
like paint splatter on a black canvas,
across the cosmos of my mind.

And then at last, awake,
I plunge myself into words,
not to escape the dream
but to be in it and beyond it,
to embrace and let go of life and
all its sorrows, joys and questions
in the very same moment.
I drown in the sacred symbol
of each creative word I write,
not to become a mystic
but to be immersed in the
bloody words of suffering,
the unlimited lexicon of love,
the exquisite adjectives of joy,
and be one with all of it
so I can fully taste, savor
the grit and grain and grape of it
in my hungry, thirsty mouth.
I make the sacrifice of self
the food I bring to the table,
to the banquet of ultimate answers
where the whole of Mystery
waits to be consumed.
I offer the broken bread of my body
the aged wine of my words
as the grace I speak before the meal,
to be miraculously transformed
and thus to give birth to god.

© Lianne Schneider July 25, 2010

oiseau amer by Erika

there’s a blackbird
stuck
inside my chest

I think it’s dead

but that’s what makes it so alive

I half-choked on its ghost
but I swallowed it
bitter breath and all:

I felt its beating presence
cold and false
tangled up between
my heart and ribs
spun into my chest-web

like a fly in a spider’s home

I had no words
the other day
when I felt its claws

digging

for prayer

so I gave it no hope –

I killed it
believing it might fly

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4 thoughts on “Features for week of July 25, 2010

  1. This is a real honor, to be up here with so many wonderful artists – and representing passion: the word I use to describe myself when only one is an option. PASSIONATE. A passion for life, for love, for art; for dreaming, living, seeing, watching, hearing, BEING. Thank you for this honor, and congratulations to all the artists on this blog and everywhere who use passion to sustain their inspiration!

    LilyNoelle

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