Friday Feature – 26/11/2010

Time for another mini feature for the weekend…

This time three images caught my eye:

Now I Get message posters On Walls !! by ©bdazzled

Now I Get message posters On Walls !! by ©bdazzled

I love the whimsy of this and all the detail on the page. It makes you wonder…

La Passion de Jeanne by ©hotshots

La Passion de Jeanne by ©hotshots

There’s something ominous about this image. Fabulous technique and composition.

Last time I comitted suicide by ©Manolya F.

Last time I comitted suicide by ©Manolya F.

Love this image. The feeling of movement and the restricted colour palette are fabulous.

Congratulations everyone and a lovely weekend!

xo

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Features November 21, 2010

While browsing the many wonderful “Touched by Fire” artworks, I found these to be so captivating I wished I could jump right into them and explore the new world they created for me.   It’s as if they act as portals to different worlds; worlds so enchanting anything can happen, the only limit being one’s own imagination.  They create wonderful escapes from the realities of everyday life.  Enjoy.

The Wishing Tree by vampvamp

Karina with Bike by rowanmacs

“Are They Still There?” by Alenka Co.
are they still there?
can you see them?
monster ants and mad jumping ones

they told me go find my own ants
said I wasn’t a puggle anymore
big enough to sniff out ants for myself
how hard can it be, they said
just find a big ant-hill and stick your nose in it

yeah, well, I did
you see that sore patch on my head?
that was a monster ant did that
I left that ant-hill quick smart
found one with smaller ants
stuck my nose in
and the ant-hill exploded with mad jumping ants
all over me, they were,
I left that quick smart too

you know any ant-hills
with ants that don’t bite in it
‘cos I’m ready to chuck in this ant-eater job
get one easier on the nose
like those birds with their noses buried in flowers
that looks nice
flowers don’t bite and fill your nostrils with dirt
what kind of ants do you suppose live in them?

Allegory of Unreachable Land by Igor Zenin

Special Delivery by Cassidy JK
Poseidon summoned
100 pegasi to carry
whispered lullabies.
Soaring 9,000 miles,
through starry nights,
through stormy nights,
every night,
night after night,
under the endless,
timeless moon,
they placed them softly
on your pillow to sing,
as we danced to their songs,
together,
fire and ice,
in our liquid dreams.

childhood is the most wonderful fairy tale of all by ShadowDancer

Power by Victoria Jostes

Go Where the Lightning Tells Us to Strike by lolowe
Ten steps on the ground
Pounds thunder
Grieves the impact
Braces
The release
Of rubber soles
The sharp cling
Of peppermint patterened
Skirts bleeding off the rain
Dripping pavements of red and white
And the scent of boiled rice
And the sharpness of pepper
And…
The serpentine curl of
Sodden hair against a brown
Burning
Cheek

The fire in our lungs
Exhaled into the ghostly white chill
And we cradled the dark auburn brick
Feeling our way forward
Soft fingers grasping
The rough exterior
Of a building wall
Trying to inhale pockets of air
In a world blanketed by the
Sheer gray curtains of rain

Ten steps
Ten steps and we’ve forgotten
Where to run

A crack
And the jolt of blue lines
Cut across the covered sky
Threads of electricity
Knitting along the clouds
Tingling the roots of our hair
Marking the way by
Ten seconds of silence
Blessed
Before two pairs of eyes
The color of black oil
Blink back
The eager mix of water
Trailing the lightning strike
In a blur of red and white
Pushing the scent of curry
From the breeze
The scent of thyme from our skin
Running
Until we lose the way
And find it again

Space Girl by Marlana Marry

dream ship by hollyann
cast off into
the dream ship
aloft on the cloudy sea

hold on to the strings of the stars
and sail away
to the fantasy bay
where anything happens
and everythings’ real

cast off into
the dream ship
abreast of the
golden shore

let your eyes rest
on the glorious banks
and the softened
beach grass
waving
in the evening sun

cast off into
the dream ship
away on the salt sea
air

let the night take you
to unchartered lands
where
just what you want
is close to hand

cast off into
the dream ship
with it’s decks
of pearl and jewel

i wish you a journey
that lighten’s your heart
and carries you fresh
to the new morning’s
dawn

cast off
and let yourself go

The Prophet: On Death by Colleen Milburn

the janus nocturnes; 7 life before dawn by erich biemer
there are many gates to pass
but the womb of the forest
cannot be mistaken

somewhere beyond its eaves
cluster chords from star opening comets
shine on branches of birch and pine
as angle-wing butterflies sing
questions of the night

-a coyote howls, a nighthawk descends
letting a traveler in to the temple
of the grove, letting them in
to drink seven senses of air

i wait for you
there

© by ebiemer

Features for November 14, 2010

There are two ways of spreading light – to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it. ~Edith Wharton.

Giving love to our hosts/bloggers. A lot of hard work goes into Touched By Fire, both the group and the blog. Like you, each of our co-hosts have lives outside of the bubble… families, jobs, and responsibilities. Yet, they always find time to devote to our blog and group, sharing gratitude, encouragement, and support with all of us without hesitation. I can’t express how much our little group of volunteers continue to encourage and wow me with their generosity and friendship to keep this blog buzzing along.

These wonderful people are also artists in their own right. In fact, it was their role and quality as artists that made me ask each of them to join TBF. I love the variety of styles, media, and ‘flavor’ that everyone brings to the table, and to see how that affects their choices in features and blog posts.

Touched by Fire, the blog, is nearing it’s 1 year anniversary. I wanted to take a moment this week to celebrate our co-hosts as artists and allow them to get some basking in the limelight they, without complaint, bestow upon all of you. I have chosen to showcase different pieces on the blog than on the features page, simply because I wanted to give their work more exposure than is allotted by the features page. Duffboy, MagpieMagic, Moonspiral, Rebecca Tun, lroof, and Linaji – I wholeheartedly celebrate each of you as amazing artists, incredible co-hosts and bloggers, and especially dear friends.

Duffboy
Duff was one of my first co-hosts and he has stuck by me through thick and thin. He really helped me give this blog a great running leap and was always entertaining us with terrific posts, tidbits, and helpful information. I first came across Duff as a writer. His ability to evoke sharp-shooting emotions within just a few lines really grabbed me. He’s a man of many talents, including photography and film-making.  Here are a few pieces of Duffboy:


Echo
I’m your alternate ending
the button you
should’ve pushed
21 flavors in a single
cup.

I’m the passerby
who dialed 911
mystery man, scape goat
a bomb.

I’m the right words
to say when you need
to seduce, snake charmer,
whenever you must perform
spread legs forgery.

I’m the echo, the real deal
a surface just cleaned.

MagpieMagic
Sybille, otherwise known as MagpieMagic, is a photo manipulator of the otherworldly kind. I have been following her work since I first joined the bubble. Explore beyond her redbubble portfolio and you will find she is a creative in every sense of the world; her own blogs and websites display an array of beautiful things, jewelry, crocheting, writing, knick knacks, handbags, to name a few. She has also helped keep the blog a buzz with her features and giving spirit. Please enjoy a little bit of MagpieMagic:

The Secret Keeper
He stood in the dark wood, doubtfully looking at the moon through the trees. He shivered in the cold air. Before he had time to consider his choices and give in to his fears she stood before him.

Her hair was long and shimmered blue in the light of the moon. Ribbons were tied in it, each with a key at the end of it.

“You are the Secret Keeper?” he asks her.

She nods.

He pulls a blue silk ribbon and a key out of his pocket and shows them to her.

“Any questions before we proceed?” she says with a low, soft voice.

He thinks for a moment, “Will my secret be safe with you? A lot of lives depend on it.”

“Of course”, she replies with certainty, “I am the Secret Keeper.”

He pointedly looks at the discoloured and scarred flesh of her shoulder. “Are you sure? Even under torture?”

She smiles and a soft green glow appears in her eyes, “Yes, I am sure. Even under torture, maybe especially under torture. This”, she looks at her shoulder, “happened a long time ago, when I was a new keeper and didn’t know my power yet. Do you want to change your mind?”

He shakes his head. “What happens now?”

She holds her hand out and after a moment of confusion, he gives her the ribbon and the key.

With another of her little smiles she leans forward. He whispers the secret into her ear, breathing in the scent of her, earth, smoke and a flowers whilst he does so. It makes him feel light headed. He finishes the telling and takes a step back, watching her as she ties the ribbon into her hair and attaches the key to its end.

“That’s it?” he wants to know.

“Yes, that’s it, no more is required. Your secret will be safe with me.”

“What happens if I ever need the secret back?” he queries.

“I’ll find you.”

“How will you find me? I could be anywhere.”

She laughs, and with a mocking tone in her voice she replies, “The same way I found you today. I will know if and when you need me. There is a connection between us now anyway”, she said.

“But how will you know which secret it is?” he asks curiously.

“I am the Secret Keeper and in my presence each secret will always know it’s owner” ,she explains and pulls on one of the ribbons. A key shimmers in the moonlight. He recognises the swirls and curls at the top of the key as the one he has given her.

Her dignity and serenity surprise him. She seems very young for such a responsibility.

“Is it difficult carrying all these secrets?” he wonders.

“Sometimes”, she agrees and then, almost inaudible, “they whisper to me, late at night”, and in a normal voice she continues, “you are full of questions, aren’t you? Remember, curiosity killed the cat.”

He grins, “It’s what I do, ask questions. How did you become a keeper of secrets, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“If I told you that”, she laughs at the look on his face, “you’d have to take over. Are you ready for that?”

He shakes his head and raises his hands, “No, thank you. My job is difficult enough.” He takes a step back to make his point.

“Our business is finished then. Unless you have more questions?” she asks him with a mocking smile.

He shakes his head again. “No, no, we’re done.”

She smiles, “So be it then.”

“Take care of yourself”, he tells her.

For the first time surprise shows on her face. “I will take care of your secret, don’t worry.”

“I am sure you will, but that’s not what I meant. Take care of yourself. I wouldn’t like to see you hurt.”

“Thank you”, she smiles, but this time the smile lights up her face and he finally sees that she is beautiful, scarred shoulder notwithstanding. His fear leaves him and he smiles back at her. He is tempted to ask her something else just to keep her here with him a little longer.

“One last question?” he asks giving in to temptation.

She nods, amused by his curiosity.

“What happens if I die? What happens to the secret I mean?”

“The ribbon and key will crumble to dust and the secret will die with you.”

“Good. That’s very good.”

“Goodbye, be safe”, she says and when he looks up she is gone. There is a tinkling sound as of metal clinking against metal, but then that fades, too.

He stares for a moment at the place where she stood before him, then turns around and finds the path back to the city, his heart a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

___________
© Sybille Sterk

Moonspiral
Tammy Mae is a deep and loving artist that I have adored for some time. Her stunning paintings, women and goddesses with deeply expressive eyes and emotions, typically represent deep-level subconscious or spiritual conveyances. Her work blows me away every time. Enjoy a little glimpse of her stunning work:


Rebecca Tun
Rebecca’s photography won me over from first glance. Just one look at her portfolio and there is no doubt she will go far in the photography world. She is also a model and you may find her in some of her own, and others, work. Her work always focuses on the emotion of her subject along with storytelling. Please enjoy a few pieces of her work:


lroof
I came across Lauren through the homepage layout forum on redbubble. I loved her keen eye for great work, and especially for her ability to put together a collection of pieces that look great together. She is a budding photographer with a youthful, whimsical style that I adore. She’s one of the new kids on the block and came on board specifically to help me out with some of the things I stopped having time for, and of course I love her for it! Please enjoy a few of her fabulous photos:


Linaji
Seriously, is there someone on redbubble that doesn’t know Linaji? Photography, digital painting, storytelling, poetry, and not to be overlooked, her enthusiastic support to everyone else’s work. It’s no secret that Lina is a dear friend of mine, but truth is when I first started TBF I asked her to join me, but with commitments to many other groups she declined my invitation…. for a year. However, I’m a persistent little squirrel so I kept squeaking away at her until she finally had room in her life to be a part of us. Lina is seriously one of the very first persons that I ‘followed’ on the bubble. I found her because of her writing but also appreciated her visual art as well. I love the way Lina’s written word gets a hold of my insides and squeezes them until I gasp.. and the way she is constantly forging new paths in her photography and digital painting. Enjoy a few wonderful pieces of Linaji:

Your Pearls
We were waiting together
The lines of communication were all out
Wired up to find the sound of hearts like our own
Grey matter silver lined clouds
Amassing in the south
Waiting it seemed to rain on our parade.

However, we then looked toward each other
Our peaceful conversation seemed endless
And In our connection
There grew a peerless strength
Within each of us as we remembered
the world was our oyster.
It was then I began to feed you the pearls you were wearing
You took each one with a sensual understanding I cannot
quite describe except to say
I was in awe
My hands touched your skin like raw silk
Smiling you said you liked the itch of remembering with hands like mine
You liked the connection
As did I
And soon we forgot
How painful growing up can be.

Linaji 2009

Love each one of you,
PJ Djennel, aka ShadowDancer

Monday Feature

I know, I know, there hasn’t been a Friday feature for a while. Just been so busy with one thing and another… but here’s a Monday feature. Just saw this when I moderated all the fabulous art and writing that came in over night and knew I had to feature this.

Mixed Feelings by Agent7

Mixed Feelings by Agent7

What a totally fabulous creation. Clever, great colour and depth and something to make you think. Unbeatable combo!

Have a good week everyone!

TBF features for the week of November 8, 2010

It’s been so long since I’ve had the opportunity to select feature works, so I’m very excited! I hope you enjoy this passionate and emotional picks.

 

Together agains the waves of life (by robinellenlucas)

we are
together
against the waves
of life…

take my hand
move forward with me
quietly
to discover…

only because i whispered it
only because i asked you

r.e.l. 10/23/10

 
Foolish girl (by Jet…)

Foolish Girl-
One sided heart.
You let it fall…

Foolish girl

 
Ange blanc by Auquier



50-Foot Barbie Has Some Questions About God by Margaret Bryant

 

Moonlit Hands by lolowe

Your hands
Resemble a leaf struck
By the moon
Veins
On a surface
Of transparent brown
Paper thin
Fragile
Shaking in the wind

 

Your Eyes by kashmirecho

I was wrong about your eyes. They are not blue. They are a golden hue- a color I’ve never seen before except maybe in a crayon box. Not a gold like 24K jewelry-a deeper color but still as bright-twinkling like a star. Glowing like war embers in a hot fire, especially when we hold each other’s gaze for more than a few seconds. The heat is in our eyes, I’m sure you can see it in mine too. I think our eyes were meant to meet.

 

ever-present by David Mowbray

 

Hello Grandpa by KLPJPhoto

 

Your Eyes by kashmirecho

was wrong about your eyes. They are not blue. They are a golden hue- a color I’ve never seen before except maybe in a crayon box. Not a gold like 24K jewelry-a deeper color but still as bright-twinkling like a star. Glowing like war embers in a hot fire, especially when we hold each other’s gaze for more than a few seconds. The heat is in our eyes, I’m sure you can see it in mine too. I think our eyes were meant to meet.

CONVOS WITH GOD THE 3:16 FILES by 8upchef

As I listen to you
Speaking through John
I am glad to have you
Sitting beside me
I have so many questions

Why did you send him
Why didn’t you come
Were you afraid
Was he afraid
Did it work

You sent you’re son
He whom you love most
Which is a better jesture
Than coming yourself
And we believe

You could not come yourself
That would be self serving
You teach us against that
We heed your warnings
And we believe

You were afraid
But not for yourself, for us
What we could self inflict
But you guided us
And we believe

Christ did fear
Not for himself
But for our deaf masses
But he made us listen
And we believe

It worked so very well
In him you sent lessons
You sent salvation
You sent your truth
And we believe

So thank you
For sitting here with me
And talking with me
For answering me
And putting me at ease

 

Orbiting Space and Coffee Rings by Kristin Reynolds

My Grandmother
hummed songs
to no-one—
to darkness,
to anyone

while circling
the rim of her coffee cup
with three crooked
middle fingers.

Half the time she would whistle—
half the time it was
just the click of her
long fingernails
seeking new orbits
from memory,
touching what she could
of earth;
holding her feet
down.

My five year old daughter
just asked her eight year old brother:
“Are you still blind?”
Just as I was about to write the next line
of this poem—
about how their Great Grandmother
was blind;
and how I figured,
that the reason she circled that coffee cup’s rim
was:
because touching anything
is better
than touching nothing.

No answer.
My daughter asks louder:
“Are you still blind?”
My son is Frankenstein armed, and grabbing
my shoulder;
I am staring in disbelief.
“Mom? Is that you?” he asks,
pretending around corners
through time.

I answer him—dumbstruck and smiling
at the way it all works, the clock guts
and genius of this whole operation—
“Yes, dear, it’s me.”

“Oh.” He answers,
then gone.

“Are you still blind!”
His sister yells
through space—through
hollow-mouthed threads

as I am circling
around the last time
I saw
my Grandmother’s face;

and how I just…

walked out
that door.

gone.

© Kristin Reynolds 11 7 2010

 

Verte Eco-Friendly by Shanina Conway

 

love and gravity 2-a tribute to Newton and Einstein by Frederic Levy-Hadida

Scary Tree #15 by Ben Loveday

This photograph to me is like watching clouds. I see so many things when I look at it. The title led me to see it as a dragon, reaching into the sun as it flies away from it’s frightened victims. In another glance, I see the curves of a woman, beautifully bathing in the moonlight. In another moment, it transforms into a deep meaning of peace in solitude, or reaching for something glorious. So go ahead, look at it with open eyes and mind and see what it says to you.

Features 1/11/2010: Autumn Mood

Halloween is just past and Autumn fully upon us, and Winter is waiting around the corner. Always puts me in a funy mood. Spring and Summer seem forever away and despite the beauty of Autumn leaves I feel a little despondent and I am already yearning for the new Spring green….

So, here are my ‘moody’ features. 🙂 They include both old and new artists and I hope  you enjoy them.

I love the wide expressive sky in this and the feeling of being all small and insignifcant. Great shot and brilliant treatment.

When You're All Alone Laurie Search

When You're All Alone by © Laurie Search

What can I say? Shar is one of my favourite poets on Redbubble and for me at least her words always hit right home.

To Feel by © Autumnwind

of my dark and bruised
yellowed then gone
a black hurt
remains
an ink spot
burden

how stuck
and permanent
a drink not thirsted for

mother never told me
your touch would linger
in shooting blues
of searing desire
in breaths of brown hair
warm upon eyelashes
inviting…teasing
causing butterflies to collide

crazy breathless
spiraling heat
magnet to craving
the spark of flaming
you…
cheater…liar
greedy hunger all consuming
coveting love in poison flavors

reckless savior
heartless traitor

all those daisies
dying from
chronic Cinderella maybe’s

devour and dive
into my red sea sky
intrude upon indifference
with your naked carnal sighs

cover my eyes
blind me from dreams
lust defies

losing myself
in you ~ in me

as here I stay

to feel alive

This is one of of those images that you just have to love. There’s something so magic and otherworldly about it and it makes you smile even if the skies are grey outside…

Little Stars micmac

Little Stars by © micmac

I just love this poem by Blake, the language just makes music in my head and pictures to go with it…

HOW THE LOVE WE NEVER GOT by © Blake Steele

I remember…
winter, late, huffing, indignant
of spring-young sprouting.
Earth-leaned, robin spattered,
song drops and sparse frost
now tucked and trousered —
so sulked she roared,
ranted and rattled,
shameless and frazzled —
this dead-dropped last year.
Forgotten! drum-strummed and furious,
she late-howled in flakes
as feathered frolics spun and spurned,
wove, whistled, nested, nipped and yearned
— my breast! bird brewed —
until the sky spattered clear
amidst the spiraled soak
of her gold-grown green fear.

So winter sulked
and sighed
towards summer,
when
I,
butter-rubbed,
rumbled.

Fog is an amazing thing especially when the light shines through it. There’s something of “anything can happen” about it and this beautiful shot just captures that feeling of wonder and excitement.

Fog by Igor Zenin

Fog by © Igor Zenin

This next poem is just full of secrets and the coming of Winter (at least for me),  a mystery to make you sit and think.

Hush! by © Jet …

Hush!
Sprawled out words;
Written.
On pieces of fabric, paper and earth

Torn.

Shhhh.. Hushhh
Not One Word
There is no place here
for these such things.
Black blood filled eyes,
Full
Gathering;
Like pools threatening to spill over..

Not One Word
disgraceful heart!
Little lost girl;
Silenced
Alone
and
Torn.

Hush!

Here’s Autumn’s full glory in technicolour with it’s bright oranges and blues and stark blacks and the golden light you only ever get in Autumn. Fabulous capture.

Autumn Leaves (Les Feuilles Mortes).Memories of those happy times when we were all together. Brown Sugar Storybook. by © AndGoszcz

Autumn Leaves (Les Feuilles Mortes).Memories of those happy times when we were all together. Brown Sugar Storybook. by © AndGoszcz

Here’s a poem that reminds us that many things begin with others dying off to make space for new beginnings and to allow them the grace to grow.

beginnings by © greeneyedlady

it started with you
thank you
the day you blew holes in my world
well, i thought it was all over
until i knew
that’s when i drew
the best aspects of her
and the worst aspects of him
right down into the center of me
and created a new being
and it was strong
no longer pushed and pulled along
the beginnings of who i am today
started with you
thank you
now i can let you fade away

I have a thing about graveyards and cemetaries. There’s something so still and peaceful about them. This is a beautiful capture with the soft glow of the fog and the stark tree and architecture.

 

St. Andrew's Cemetary by Kristina Gale

St. Andrew's Cemetary by © Kristina Gale

The perfect Autumn poem… what more can I say?  It says it all…

scent of decay by © Alenka Co

crush of leaves underfoot
soft mound of brown where a tree once lay
warm, woody scent of decay
of life and death entwined

all along the mound of tree that was
life is emerging
from the crumbly mulch a man-fern sprouts
delicate fungi in clusters grow
and moss drapes elegantly over all

from the earth the tree was born
grew magnificent, reaching to the sun
birds sang in its branches
possums clambered its trunk
devils growled and chased around it
wallabies nibbled and contemplated
while womats ignored all and dug

and tree fulfilled its life
returned to earth
to live again

I always like toinclude at least one of my co-hosts, so often we’re missed out in features. This time this beautiful image and it’s fabulous title by ShadowDancer caught my eye.

would there still be stars, if men could touch them? by ShadowDancer

would there still be stars, if men could touch them? by © ShadowDancer

This final poem captured all I wanted to say with these features… Enjoy!

mood tide by © hollyann

the wave pulls out
and arcs itself
over the fine grey sand
it’s crested foam
it’s turquoise arm
set to tumble down
cascading on the open shore
leaving treasure
leaving stones
shells
green hair weed
little crabs
to sidestep out
to find the sea again

then slowly softly
on the pull back
sucking in the sand
it lapped
sucking out the
things it left
to yet again pull up
and in
birds reeling in it’s wake
and mist
the constant
curvature
of the sea
against the earth
guided by the
stages of the moon

the mood tide
fashions it’s pattern
in it’s wake
life
cries and swoons
the driftwood left
a tribute
to it’s wearing depths
and smoothing moves

Remember, all work on here can also be found on Redbubble, just click on the images or the title of the poems to be taken straight there. All work is copyrighted, please respect the artists! Any comments are welcome and make a huge difference to the artists, so please be generous with your praise.