TBF Features for the week of May 2, 2011

Greetings, bubblers and TBF enthusiasts. It’s only Tuesday, but there’s still time to enjoy a week of features, full of intensity and longing.

Janie’s got a gun... by Tracey Mac

What do you see underneath? by cerphotography

The leap by Jessica Andrews

Every Little Peace by Mui-Ling Teh

Fusion by Manana11

i just want to feel by vampvamp

La Odisea by Erika .

I pray,
that the ship of dreams you sail on conquers the storms of the gods and the tempests of the sea: battle mighty Orion and reach the Northern Star; and all through the night I shall witness the golden victories you leave in your wake.

I’ve heard of dark legends coating the deepest of seas and myths of winged lions guarding perils of every kind. Blood-thirsty fiends and goddesses shall coat our eyes in magic spells and stand in between our destinies, but all in vain, for we know our heart’s truth is embedded into one another.

The wars and lands we’ll cross shall be many and great, and I will record my days and weave in my sadness into the loom of poetry. We’ll worship the lands of the moon and the glow of the midnight stars before they can grant us our prayers…but meanwhile, tears stain a violet hue upon my cheeks for all the love-moments stolen by Time.

And across the roaming earth, galleons of clouds swallow the dark vault of night at the summon of the goddess of dreams, and once more our souls traverse reality to ascend the lofty heights of the heavens: for it is here, our lover’s tryst, in these dreams tucked under our starlit wings where our god-cursed journey ends and our time begins despite the miles of storms in between –

we are invincible to the wrath of the gods, my Odysseus
for we know our love stands stronger than the mightiest world.

Mind your self  by dab –

On the difference between
Soldier and Warrior
Both in battle, full of ardor
One’s thinking for himself
Other’s following orders
A human being
Shirking his own Mind
Will wilt and decay
As a tree, or algae
Shirking their ability
To transform light
Into food-energy

Lemming by lovelyrita

I am not the moon
to her planet
or the tattoo on her arm

but you squeezed me through the needlepoint,

where I became a design of orbit
she fashioned with her time (and mine)
circling her arm,

her right hand man,

waiting to be told
when and where and
what to spin.

Royal Wedding Haiku 2: The Future Queen and I by Tuliptree

I have more freedom
than the most envied woman
in the UK does.

E Man Tribute (pt. 1) by wordthrift

here in Angeles
I’m just the same,
a needle in the hay
lost to miss misery
with no name.
My speed trial
in search of Amity, Amity, Amity, Amity, Amity,
Amity, Amity,
she was someone I used to know,
dancing a number 2 waltz.
She would not say yes,
life lived between the bars
is not happiness.

Forgiveness by MaryMac

This short is a memory with my two brothers and me. My mom is driving and our heads are bopping. This is dedicated to my momma. 
Someone wrote cruel words about her and my entire family last night. Someone who doesn’t know her, me, or my family. He also wrote cruel words about my BEST friend. 
This short is to wash that away.

The person who wrote those words. I love you, I do.
I don’t know you but I can’t help my spirit is drawn to you. 
Peace and happiness I’ve always tried to convey. 
I see the good in you…not the hate. 
Peace, love, and happiness to ALL in the World.

FORGIVENESS
The radio blares, “…joy to the fishes and the deep blue sea joy to youandme.”

Lakehurst Mall…Three Wimpey Hamburger joints

Escalator take you atop…view open space, two cars one truck.

Biggest pair of Levi-Stratus Blue Jeans I ever did see

Blue Smiley face with stick-body charm… adhered to a chain around my neck

Pistachio ice-cream in a bowl please, with two maraschino cherries ontop.

The radio blares, “…ride, captain ride upon your mystery ship, be amazed at the friends you have here on your trip…”

Lake Hurst Mall

© 02/27/2011
tylerpuppy


Features – 19/09/2010 – All mixed up

Rather than having a theme this week, I decided to just choose artwork and writings because they touched me in some way. A theme can be interesting and add to the features but sometimes it can also feel limiting because some artwork/writings are excluded because they don’t fit into the theme. So here’s my random selection.

Note: All artwork and writing is copyrighted by their respective creators. Do not copy or publish any of the art/writing on these pages in any way shape or form without the written permission of the authors/creators.

There’s something mesmerising about this image. I love the texture of the dress and the effect it has on the eye at leading us to the nest and eggs. Beautifully done. 🙂

un~PROTECTED by © jacqleen

un~PROTECTED by jacqleen

un~PROTECTED by jacqleen

I love the raw emotion and the acceptance of the truth and what is in this poem. It touches me deeply because it’s so rare that we accept what is.

It’s broken by © JetMannHenry

I want to shout it to the stars.
Scream it to the sun.
Recite it to the gods.

I am in love!

But the lumps in my throat threaten it’s beauty.
and the tears in my eyes leave me blind.

I love him!

But,

…it’s broken.
I am broken
and
I am breaking him.

I love flowers but so often images of flowers don’t seem to be more than pretty and don’t have much that touches the viewer other than the fact that it’s pretty. This image touched me because there’s something special, ethereal about it, something that leads you further and makes you wonder. Perfect!

Or So the Story Goes by © Laurie Search

Or So the Story Goes by Laurie Search

Or So the Story Goes by Laurie Search

This poem by Mia is wonderful in it’s spiritual depth and acceptance. There’s no more I can say, read for yourself! 🙂

healing by © Mia Rose

I am sitting quietly
at the altar of now
breathing deeply
cupping us
in the prayer of my hands
giving thanks
for the healing that pours
from the cool cracked moon
of my essence
opening itself
softly
gently
reverently
to welcome the holy sun
exploding its fiery force
in my being
fusing my grateful parts

I love the blues and greens in this wonderful image by vampvamp. There’s something healing and serene about it.

PH/VV by © vampvamp

PH/VV by vampvamp

PH/VV by vampvamp

This is so utterly magical and beautiful. It takes you from the first line and carries you with you all the way back. Wonderful!

libelula (verde) by © Erika

have you ever felt the green of the sea and how it feels to see it see you?

I have felt it
in your eyes:

you
feel like the green
the sunlight
escapes
between the leaves’ breath

and

you’re born in my mind

like
spring
from
autumn
skipping winter

and all I see
are verdant palaces
built from the same material
your heart is made of
leaving a trail of breath and moss –

I can almost catch your scent

dancing

whispering

through dragonfly wings
so invisibly visible
like an internal sigh

you leave your mind-print
on my own
and I’m reminded of

how close to me
you always are

even though

you move like a shadow
through the forest
you’ve built for me
to fly in

you should see
how beautifully the sun
springs off the trees
like rain from clouds

like thought from dream
into forgetfulness

when the sun rises and before it goes to sleep
leaving the stars in its wake:

for it is in the moonlight
I often carve secret myths into the tree trunks
when I awaken the whisper
that sounds like your voice

haunting
the mighty oaks

moving so swiftly

weaving in and out of the night

into my mouth

through my heart

down to the abyss

where you settle like gravity

and I

become your heartbeat

And from light to darkness… A compelling image by Randy. Something to wonder and think about…

Fury of the Fallen by © Randy Monteith

Fury of the Fallen by Randy Monteith

Fury of the Fallen by Randy Monteith

A dark poem by Anthea with an ending that leads us back to the light. Wonderful haunting words.

Melancholy by © Anthea Slade

Engulfed in the ice of melancholy,
sadness dissects my joy
into sections of discontent.

My aching heart stutters and
craves for days that are all blue
with shadows that unlock spirits acquiescence.

The unrest of sadness tortures thoughts
hi jacking emotional harmony,
spinning a fabrication of forgotten dreams.

An unrelenting grey sky sadistically
uncoils my heart, poisoning my veins
with suspicions snake called self doubt.

Blossoms burst as spring struggles to take hold,
the cold taunts each morn while shiver sinks
her angry teeth inside my goose bumped flesh,
a vampire, a red eye with black blood.

Frozen creativity rumbles disturbed
by light deprivation followed by night.
Salty tears sting itchy eyes that blur disrupted by the
knowledge that sadness is beautiful.

And if you dream it,
happiness and sunlight will come.

This is an amazing atmospheric image by Tori. It makes me wonder about the story behind it. Did they just get out of the spooky house and now look back? Are they going into the house? Beautiful and mysterious.

Faith by © Tori Yule

Faith by tori yule

Faith by tori yule

A heart wrenching story by Alenka. For a brief moment in time we share an intimate encounter. Wonderfully atmospheric.

from ‘A Shattering of Glass’ ….. by © Alenka Co

The sound of a man crying is the most frightening sound in the world. I saw my father cry once, and once the corporal.

His crying is muted, like it is being muffled under the covers, but still it chills me. The instinctive urge, as it was with my father and the corporal too, is to rush in and comfort but will he want that? Sometimes when we are reduced to tears we want to be left alone and sometimes we are crying out for someone to hold us, to comfort us and tell us everything will be all right. But for him it can never be all right.

I sit up, my knees huddled to my chest, listening to that awful keening sound. In the end I have to go.

I don’t knock. He doesn’t hear me pad barefoot to the bed. As I thought, he is under the covers, curled into a ball. I kneel on the floor and firmly place a hand where I think his shoulder must be. A slight startled flinch barely interrupts his grief’s flow. I let my whole arm come slowly down over him. How small he feels, bundled up like this.

When he doesn’t reject me I bring my other arm around him and rest my head on his heaving body. I don’t know for how long we stay like that, his breath a series of jagged sobs, his body shuddering under my head and chest. Gradually he quietens and stills and lies almost silent beneath me. Neither of us speaks. I hold him until I think by his breathing that he has finally fallen asleep.

I love the whimsy of this and the concept and thought behind this fabulous image.

What You Think on Grows by © AngiandSilas

What You Think on Grows by AngiandSilas

What You Think on Grows by AngiandSilas

There is so much strength and confidence in this poem by Rhenastarr. It’s fabulous and wonderful and seemed the perfect way to end this week’s features.

SHE by © Rhenastarr

Tattered edges of a
Shattered life became
Whispers soughing
With the wild winds of
Yesterday
Brushing the memory
Across the cracked
Heart and soul that fills
The empty vessel of
What was
Bringing home the withered
Hopes of forgotten dreams
Illusions planted deep, their
Pieces littering the barren
Fields of muted visions
Sharp edges
Torn and splintered from the
Sight of reason
Happiness and regret merge
Coating the walls of her
Being with the painful ashes
Of a fire that consumed too
Quickly and left the scars from
Flames that singed her
Helpless heart
She was swept in a tumultuous
Wash of feelings that left her
Breathless and bewildered
Would tomorrow ever bring
Her peace
Would the night ever hold
Nothing but shadows
In her heart a tiny flicker
As the flame of her being
Refused to die
She would not let
The past
Sweep her among the
Littered remains of love’s loss
Her hopes and dreams had
Been broken, battered and bruised
But she would pick up the
Pieces
She would repair her damaged
Remains
Stand before her mirror and
See victory reflected in her
Eyes
In the smile that now caressed
Her mouth
She would see before her
A woman who would survive

I hope you enjoyed this week’s features. Please check out all the artists’ pages and let them know how wonderful their writings and artwork is. 🙂

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

Features 7-11-10

Our little group, not so little anymore, is overflowing with amazing imagery. I am a traditional artist myself, and so my eye tends to wander to traditional art first. Not because I love it more, but simply because it is my craft and I understand it more. Traditional art is definately in the minority in Touched by Fire, and so this week I wanted to highlight some of our outstanding traditional works. The writing I chose for this week is all centered around the themes of human greed, lonliness, loss, despair and the illumination that these emotions bring. It is not that I feel particularly dark today, but I feel that as we reimagine the world we need to understand our darkness. We can’t change what we don’t understand. Sometimes it is our darkest places that teach us the truth of who we are as humans.

Waiting For the Sunshine
Waiting for the Sunshine by LisaMM

I love the feeling in this piece, the waiting for change, metamorphosis, or rebirth. The cycles of death and birth are also in this poem by lolowe. It is written in a dreamy metaphorical cadence, speaking of death, but also of life.

The Layer of Death’s Tree

Before I escaped
The drought my ancestors created
I watched my mother sleep
I saw her face smooth out
The apple core in her hand
The last of its kind
Fell to the floor
Within the withered brown
Of its paper thin core
It held a black seed
I took it
So she would know
I left to plant ourselves
A new world

I am a thief
This I know
But my place in this life
Has become worn down
By the emptiness continuously
Digging out the illusions from our eyes
Like coal from a mine
We are left barren
And without the use of tears
The diamonds pressed into the
Furnace of our bellies
Lack the fire needed
To mourn the passing of what we
Once knew

I had a dream the night before

I woke to the sound of the world ending
I found the courage to run
But instead
Found my feet journeying
To the source of the sound
It was there I found an ocean
It was not the world
But the crashing of waves against
Each other
I wanted to taste
The legend of waters just like this
And slowly I leaned over
To find silvery fish
Swimming in the shed of their own scales
Not water
Just themselves discarded
Sustaining what they knew
In their evolution

I felt the cloak of my skin
Tremble
I wanted to swim
In the fluidity of my own
Body
But found
That I had nothing to shed
Nothing to
Give
Nothing to keep me
Afloat

But I had a seed
The onyx remainder
Or a world lost
I took it to my mouth
The water of my tongue
Cradling it
Wishing it life
And it broke it open
Sprouted within me
A temple

I couldn’t swim
In the scales of fishes
I couldn’t
Cry the gemstone tears
Long since excavated
But I could bring life
To a layer of Death’s own tree
The apple core soul
Shining red
Reminding me of the skin
Still clinging to my mother’s lip

White Leather and Chrome
White Leather and Chrome by Secretplanet

What can I say about this image. This is amazing figurative work. I predominately paint women, I think men are harder to draw. To me this work just shows the beauty of the human form. The man seems lost in his own thoughts or possibly in meditation. This next poem by Gretchen Cello hints to the eternal now moment and the losing of oneself in quiet contemplation. It is the illumination that comes with the letting go of self.

Ingredients of Purified Proximity

Initial appearance. Greeting morning.
Clouds break. Illumination. Cream. Skin. Slide.
Tracing shape, fit puzzle pieces. Soaring.
Simmering syllables. Low boil. Inside.
Gestures of questioning undermine fact.
Speak to me. In stories. Turning up voice.
Bodies. Introduced. Reinvent react.
Hushed aspiration of becoming… choice…
Awaking to dream. Physical presence.
Absorbing observation. Sacred look…
Ocular mandala. Gold. Transcendence.
Unspoken. Devotion. Fresh chapter book.
Elimination of time, distance, space.
Perpetual. Dejavu. Finding. Place.

Colibri
Colibri by Erika

Just a beautiful painting with a beautiful poem attached to it. The woman in the painting is dreaming of a new world, and I believe we all have the power to dream up a new and better and more colorful world. In this next poem by Purplecactus the trouble with our world is blamed on one source, money.

Too Much is Never Enough

Such a simple word
A single syllable
Spoken in whispers
Shouted in pain
Mouthed in silence
Screamed in anger

This, the cruellest of
Emotions
Unrequited by some
Lost by time
Unobtainable for many
Stolen by others

Destroyer of lives
Ripper of hearts
Killer of families
Crusher of hope
Harbinger of sorrow

It gives us no choice
Sometimes it’s power
Sometimes it’s sin
Money, for many
Too much is never enough

It strikes like a virus
No warning or cure
A life spent without it
Is no life at all
So we risk all these things
In the name of love

Burden
Burden by Redqueenself

I am always a sucker for symbolism. Here Redqueenself is presenting a symbol of women as the bearers of humanities burdens. I really liked how she put the apples on the water jug, hinting to the dominate religious views that women bear the burdens simply for eating from the tree of wisdom and life. In this next poem by Anthea Slade she speaks of the fragility of life. I also liked the symbolism she uses to get her point across.

Fragile

An untouchable eagle soars high above
the mountains to the heavens
powerful, majestic beauty wings outstretched
but can be dropped earthbound
by one hit of the hunters bullet.

Life can rise you out of the ashes,
smiling free falling with smooth caress
then boom, crash you are hit
Achilles knew the spot on that heel…ouch…
Jack and Jill fell down the hill.

Indeed, how very precious this one life is!
How sacred it is to breathe in
to breathe out
to touch the breast
and feel that red muscle pounding life…
powerful yet so achingly vulnerable.

You can skip and play
You can dance the day away
Hip Hop cool staccato moves
Step and flow hot Latin grooves
You can talk and smile
and live a life of dreams for a while
but when it hits you fall you STOP.

In black silence you crawl
and creep along holding the wounds
in slow motion life returns to the basics.
Your heart opens so wide bursting
with gratitude just to know that
one breath follows another and you
can still taste and can feel love.

Like a child, a tender baby
your survival needs are all that count
smiling it is enough to feel the breeze
on your cheek and to see
the suns rays dance through the shadows
on your window pane.

Turning points
Crossroads
Competition
Empowerment
Challenge
Stress
EGO… it all fades and your eyes
glisten as rain drop tears scud
down your cheek and a smile breaks
and then dances…ah you are ALIVE.

And life is Beautiful.

Lest we forget just how fragile we are.

Titok
Titok by Cynthia Lund Torroll

Once again I am amazed by the artist’s ability with a male subject. In this work the man also seems to be lost in his thoughts. With the moon over his shoulder you get a dreamy feeling to this. Something about the positioning of his hands makes him seem powerful in his ability to dream and to create. In these words by Hector A. Encinas, there is a feeling of the mundane of life. It is almost as if the subject has lost his ability to dream of new world as he is lost in the grey of life.

Grey Afternoon’s

Shave;
Shower,
Go to sleep.

Lost in the madness of a dream;
In a minutes lifetime.

Will I wake again?

Will I wake;
Smitten,
in sour hands,
Of another routine day.

This is just jail,
To those who have to wake up in mornings,
And work for such unusable standards.

I find myself taken;
Yet again,
By another grey afternoon.

Bewilderment,
Drapes the eyes of the dead beat corps,
On the bed.

Letting go
Letting Go by Helene Ruiz

Everything that Helene paints seems to come from a place of deep emotion. This work is no exception. She is paying tribute to a friend that has passed. This last poem by Linaji echoes this sentiment as she is missing a dear friend that she feels the busy pace of life is making them grow apart.

For a Girl With a Heavy Heart I Love You

I don’t know what to say,
so I feel,
I wanna say something is brewing
but what?

climbing vines
nostalgic need
strangling off the tree for a life of it’s own
roots that lift cement walkways
unfolding in low murmur:

“this is not enough, I am growing”

peeling paint where essence of Cedar lay
smell begins tri color release

“here I am!”
you pray

you say…
“life’s dissapointments
cannot hide my smell”

It lingers now (your scent)
full of wants and desires
that are soaring off the charts.

like a forest of forgiveness
like a sky-way lit up with dreams

you wrote in parchment pieces
made from mythical meaning

“I will have mine and I will envy too
Because;

Sometimes, I just cannot love you
when all that I am still does “

Slowing as I look deep inside
this beguiling soft core

I hear her once more saying
without any reservations;

“forgive for now, yes?
but you already do
I feel you
I shall still be like a soft whisper
in your shadows
where the cool space of knowing
exists.”