August 21, 2011 Features

As I was browsing through the many great artworks by TBF members, I realized it’s fun to let your imagination run wild and make a story that connects using various artworks.  This tale has a tragic ending.


Stairway to Heaven by Smudgers Art


Strasburg’s Night by Igor Zenin


feathers on the wind by Alenka Co


SKYCLAD SWORD by ArtofMorgaine


The Deeper You Go by Laurie Search


cool breeze by Ingz


Fairy Tale ~ Chateau Noisy by Jospehine Pugh


The Key to Many Hearts by James Leader


I can’t decide if I’ll let you save my life or if I’ll drown… by Tracey Mac


I am what you made me by strawberries


Message in a Bottle by Tamarra BaVincio

Night Walker by cosimopiro

Don’t be too dismissive of shifting sounds in the night
where persistent scratching on frosted window
may be the talons of ghoulish intentions;
where disembodied breathing that chills our spinal chord
be a madman’s razor laughter…
… and what of those twigs crunching blindly behind us
like brittle bones of curious wanderers,
as we walk innocently through a misty forest,
are they the creeping footsteps of a dark hunter’s quest
for beating hearts to feed upon?
Don’t be too casual
of shadows that float by in the corners of moonlight trickery,
elusive masked phantoms of light they may be,
sent to distract us from rational thought.
And that howling wind whistling a blood curdling tune
through the cracks of our stairways to Paradise,
might not that be the approach of sinister wants
to begin our dark imaginings?

Look behind the doors and under beds,
put the stuffed dolls in cupboards and cover the clown
before you lay your head to slumber,
for ruthless teeth await to chatter over flesh
and cacti tongues long to prickle our hopes
to suck and empty us of our deepest desires.
Draw the curtains,
for unseen eyes in the cover of darkness
watch our naïve comfort
ready for sleep to take us to their haunts
to peel our skin back to parade their skilful conquest;
and searching fingers pressing,
seeking our open mouths to slip the moans of ghosts
down our vulnerable throats
to possess our dreams and make them their own.
There be skeletons here,
of past dreams and childhood fancies,
that rise from the depths of blood filled oceans
to claim back flesh
before rot crawled and stripped it from sensual delights.

When alone and you feel warm breath upon your neck
but sends a chill from the grave to the end of your toes,
do you dare look behind
or do you close your eyes
and become a nightwalker ready to face your true fears?

The Ways of Travel – Features – 14/08/2011

Since these are the Summer months and many people are enjoying their holidays, I thought travel would be the perfect theme for this week’s features. However, travelling can be done in many ways: we travel to other places, inside and out, we travel with people, we watch other people travel through their lives and we talk of our journeys and impart the wisdome we have gained.

We’re starting with the ‘normal’ trip to another country, another place… Venice – wonderful all year round.

Rialto by © TaniaLosada

Rialto by © TaniaLosada

Rialto
by TaniaLosada


There is something about travel that brings about the best or worst in us. This is the best, when you help your fellow traveller.


courage III by © uncleblack
here, let me take that,
let me carry it awhile

so the forms are made,
lines and colours
create the different shapes.

i can hold this,
sit down, this can be shared

ages wither and fade in time
we learn to prop up the old ones,
learn that our time will come.

you will never see the things
i have seen

the canyon was once a stream,

and i will see what will come
after you

as my skin is still young.

let me take this for a while
season this moment with courage,
let us both taste, now,
the beauty of our lives.


We take trips not just without, but within where there’s a whole universe (maybe many of them) which are well worth seeing…

astral travel by © vampvamp

astral travel by © vampvamp


That’s where the greatest disoveries are made – within.


IT ENDS WITHIN! by © cosimopiro
It ends here!
So… I offer this,
my battered armour,
my sword sheathed in its place of rest,
and I take up in their place instead
a pen and flimsy paper
to wrap you in the words of a condemned man
who finally found his voice.

I am a condemned man;
condemned by religious bigotry,
condemned by political agendas,
condemned by social class,
condemned by racial slurs.

I stand before you
judged by fear and hate,
cast out to the fringes
before the trial began.
In fact I was condemned before I was born;
condemned by the DNA of sin,
condemned by the past guilt of ancestors,
condemned by the stories of conquerors,
condemned by the swift hands of injustice.

I was born with the mark of a devil
and a crown of thorns
embedded deep in my psyche…

…such abuse should never be placed
upon the heads of innocence…

As a child I was told,
“Harden your heart,
toughen your skin,
tighten your grip,
don’t rock the boat, son,
toe the line, boy,
It’s a tough world out there,
no place for dreamers or losers!”

… and I never questioned who made it thus…

… but it is us
who carry the lies and deceits of monarchs, pontiffs, and generals,
we who question not
those who command our youth into wars,
who even in peace time
sit on their golden thrones
and feed us crumbs to keep us pecking.

CUT ME!

… cut me and I’ll bleed,
break my heart and I’ll cry,
threaten me and I’ll be fearful,
but put me in shackles?
I WILL BREAK FREE!
For although I am steeped in condemnation
and I am guilty of silent resignation,
I’LL BE DAMNED
IF I’LL CARRY THIS CURSE ANY FURTHER!

IT… ENDS… HERE!
… within…


Sometimes we find a fellow traveller to share some of the distance with us…

I Found Love On A Two-Way Street by © Tamarra BaVincio

I Found Love On A Two-Way Street by © Tamarra BaVincio


and sometimes we find ourselves alone again, to travel onwards to new destinations.


someone by © Nathan Emery
someone please turn off the sound
of everything
because i’m so damn tired
of listening
eyes are heavy
and i’m worn down
so please love or hate me now-
but choose
because falling off
is scarier than jumping off.

the days are blurring together
into what feels like seconds
and i hate it.
god how i hate it.
everyone is leaving-
oh wait that’s me
and maybe i’m just waiting
for someone to take my hand
and pull me away
from the ledges i always get lost on.
but now i’m rotting
in ten story air.

i wish someone
would just tell me the god damn truth
cause i’m so sick
of second guessing the world
when all I want
is someone to love.
and it feels like tonight will be
the last time i will ever breathe
in your company
and i can’t do anything about it
until it’ll be too late,
cause i’ve always lived
a few minutes behind.

it’s this air i breathe;
i swear somedays it’s poison
and makes my stomach empty
like the words i say.
but i hope someday
someone will hold my hand
and give me an escape;
into their eyes and heart,
and maybe climb the walls
around mine.


When we’re young it’s easy to seize the day, and make every second last a life time. It comes naturally.

Every Second of Every Day by © tori yule

Every Second of Every Day by © tori yule


It’s when we get older that we listen for the silence and our place in it.


Silence Is. by © imagineation
Silence is eraser shavings.

It is the space in-between a smile and a goodbye. A word and the page it is no longer on.

Silence is a mouth interrupted. A hug halfway through. An arm around the waist for a second.

It is the last three words of a sentence cut short. Because no one was listening anyway.

Silence is an unsent letter.

It is signing your name by listening too hard.

Silence is a siren on what must be a busy street, the clatter of what must’ve been a misplaced dish, the beep beep beep of a dial tone.

Silence is when you hear the most

Because you’re listening so hard

For something else.


We watch our children start on their journeys and we hope and we pray.

Run baby, run! by © Caterpillar

Run baby, run! by © Caterpillar

We treasure every moment of all the time we spent together and hope for more.


I Have Only Met You by © kashmirecho
I have only met you
Only known you a short while
And already you are leaving
Traveling across the country
To start a new journey
In a new place
Let’s hope our time apart
Is short in the scheme of things
And that we will see each other again
And spend many more moments together
Making splendid memories
As we have already done


We try to impart some knowledge and wisdom before our ways part.

The Godkeeper 32 by © Alenka Co

The Godkeeper 32 by © Alenka Co

And, once we go on different journeys, what is left but travel within to find ourselves.


What is growth but a difference between now and then? by © DominicSavio

I would do anything for
you
but what do I
do
when the thing I have
to
is nothing?
That’s when
the tables have turned
you see
and the question becomes
not what do I do with
you
but what [the heck]
do I do
with
me?


I hope you enjoyed the journey. Please tell the artists and leave a comment on their pages if you liked what you saw. Have a lovely weekend!

Touched by Fire – Features for the week of August 7, 2011

Hi everyone, a few days ago I chose this week’s features. An interesting mix of drama, visual metaphors, sensibility and overall statements. Please congratulate all the wonderful and talented artists. Duffboy

 

“its paradox” by robinellenlucas

ever emerging
all sides
of you

choose the
one in your now
who is
in between
your dark night
your early dawn

rising
because it knows
what to do
…next

is it the
mystery
u n f o l d i n g
its view
its paradox
that chooses
without limits
to protect you?

© r.e.l. 7/20/11

“Your spirit looks a lot like the fog but boy do I know the difference” by DominicSavio

Oh God
Your
spirit
in
vades
my
person
hood
like a
spiral
around
my
spine and
You
wrap
around
my
spirit
man
like a choker
with black
ribbon
and
precious
gems
like
replicas
of
Your eyes
and I
am
ice
without
You.

“The Loop” by RC deWinter

It does no good to say “Forget,”
what is experienced burns in the brain.
It does no good to say “Move on,”
what is within simply follows along.
And not looking back doesn’t alter
the past or wipe away memories, feelings, intent.
If buried, these things resurrect
doggedly as surely as some claim Christ rose from the tomb.
But they appear not miraculously
restored but as ragged skeletons clothed with shreds of flesh,
now grinning, exhibiting their
fragile framework for what it ever was –
a wish, a hope, a dream, a curse –
to accompany silently down all the years
the unfortunate pilgrim who
struggles to make sense of misplaced affection,
unfounded trust, perception
colored by desire and losses that could not be cut,
but must be paid for again
and again with the rising and setting of the
eternal sun.

© 2011 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved

 

 

 

“inVisible” by wildwomenlove

As a receptacle for your rape and pillage
i remain invisible
to your lost sense of humanity

As a middle child to the nuclear family
i remain invisible
to your parental nurture

As a daughter to women who cherish men
i remain invisible
to your favouritism

As you label me a person with some kind of incapacity
my achievements remain invisible
to your boxed-in concepts

As an artist in a world motivated by greed
i remain invisible
to your economic rationalism

As a child in a world of responsibility
my childlike wisdoms remain invisible
as they fall upon deaf ears

As a mother waiting tables of bloodline
i remain invisible
to your gratitude and recognition of value

As aging attempts to put all my eggs in one basket
i become invisible
in a society which romanticizes youth

The flame of my Self burns brightly
whether it is seen by others or not
it lights my way

on my death bed I will meet my Self
and all shall be visible
Once and for all

Blessed be

© wildwomenlove poetry

 

“Uncontrollablefailure” by Nathan Emery

She
fell down so far,
out of my reach
but not out of my sight.
I watched her
crash and burn
in the bottom of a bottle of crown
and I tried to reach down
but she didn’t even look up
to see my expression;
the red in my eyes.
I didn’t want to let her go
but she was never
really in my grasp.
So maybe I’m the one that fell;
into a bottle of vodka and vicoden,
to drown her out
to drown the world out…
to drown me out.
She split and spilt in every direction
except the one I was standing in;
just trying to catch her,
trying to clean her up
but missing every single drop.

“lay down now, little sister” by greeneyedlady

i still see him
walking up and down the darkened street
he held a shotgun in his hands
he held our lives as he always had
and two faces too little to be seen
were peeking over the edge of the windowsill
and i was whispering hollow words
lay down now, little sister
it’s just some cats running through the garbage cans

and for the fear he brought down
a father’s raucous shouts and a mother’s terrified cries
shatter the quiet of the night
would he shoot the gun?
she knew very well he might
and she waited
for the night to edge a little toward the light
and when the neighbors said settle down
or we’re calling the police, man
i thought
they’ll take you in and dry you out
and i hope you never get out of the can!

but for any of you who have ever tried
to reason with a wickedly drunken man
well, you know the decision to put the gun down
wasn’t made out of love at all
he just stepped wrong took a little fall
and it dropped from his unsteady hands….
now i don’t know how we ever did it
how we managed to pretend it never happened
our eyes would meet but we’d just look away
and two faces, too little to understand
but never too old to pretend
to be sleeping
in their beds
in that house
in the way that only scared little kids can
lay down now, little sister
it’s just some cats running through the garbage cans…

Artemis by Lynnette Shelley

End by Matteo Pontonutti

White Light by Lissie Rustage

Porcine by Lynnette Shelley

The Pecking Order by Glitterfest

4 Eyes by Paul (Quixote) Alleyne

Features July 31st 2011

My theme for this week is women and winged creatures (e.g. birds and butterflies). No particular reason except that after more than one image I liked contained these elements I decided to continue in the same vein. Enjoy!


Butterfly
by fotowagner


Hope
by Elvenspot


Those Watchful Eyes
by Matteo Pontonutti


Branwen
by MoonSpiral


The Owl Lady’s Midnight
by MaureenTillman


The Crow Knows
by MaureenTillman

 
Girl with Magpie
by Sybille Sterk


there was a girl ..
by Alenka Co


COLOUR IS THE BEST FRIEND OF BEAUTY
by GittiArt


Keep Dreaming
by AngiandSilas


So Close…
by Sandra Bauser Digital Art

From Rebecca Tun