Features 20/02/2011 – Softly, gently

It’s foggy out there and all the sounds are muted, which led me to today’s theme.

Laurie’s beautiful image is all gentle and quiet. I love the colours and soft feel of it.

Be Still, My Heart by © Laurie Search

Be Still, My Heart by © Laurie Search

Here’s a little something we do well to remember now and again by Rishani.

A breath by © Rishani Sittampalam

Life is but a breath … a whisper in the wind
Here today and whisked away so suddenly.

I love the simplicity and colours of Peter’s lovely shot.

...seedling… by © peter holme III

...seedling… by © peter holme III

Another gentle reminder of what is important by Hollyann.

one drop by © hollyann

one drop
dries up
all alone
but mixed with others
becomes
a puddle
a rivulet
a river
a flood

feeding gentle fishes
tending the sea weed
crystaling salt
and playing tide music

an ocean of beauty
you know
we can’t do this
on
our
own

I’ve always been a fan of Dorina’s art, and this one is special. I love the title and the way she executed this painting, full of questions and doubt and beauty.

Daisies…and doubts by © dorina costras

Daisies…and doubts by © dorina costras

And here’s another of my favourites on RB – Lisa’s poem is mysterious and magical.

mercy by © Lisa Jewell

her alabaster lip
pouted
seductively

her tangled spirit
rolled
achingly

her desire for touch
spilled
into waiting hands

her tears
washed
all the feet that walked into her heart

her heart
broke down
the truth had been lost in lies

her shadow of a vessel
slipped silently
back into the alabaster jar

A little bit more heat now from Randy. I couldn’t resist this clever image – full of fire and passion and more.

Embers by © Randy Monteith

Embers by © Randy Monteith

More passion, even if it’s of a sad kind by SimplyRed. You can’t help but be touched by these words.

Burning of the old Homefire by © SimplyRed

He walks silently through
pristine snowfall
each footstep…. beating crisply
in time with his heart

pumping heart of lonely
but chilled to the very core
the homefire burns
with thoughts of her

there will be no greeting
of warmth nor doorstep of comfort
no welcome mat
of open arms to make him smile

three winters now
since death stole her
creeping in through
night times darkness
swooped away on
wind of ill fate

vacant empty rooms
filled with memories
their love dusting tabletops
and chairs of comfort

footsteps deep and crisp
homeward bound
life now barron
as winters landscape

his breath fogs
as a single tear
tracks an icy cold chill
upon his cheek

Rebecca’s whimsical image brings new hope.

Rays of Sunlight – Morning Mist by © Rebecca Tun

Rays of Sunlight – Morning Mist by © Rebecca Tun

I couldn’t resist this poem by PJ either. For me it’s full of light.

the colors of lightening by © ShadowDancer

He asked her
“Have you ever seen lightening
before it leaves the clouds?”

She softly smiled
and shook her head in response.

(never daring to tell him
that it has 8 colors
and she sees it
every time his eyes meet hers)

There’s something sad about Ruby’s image, but it’s a gentle sadness, one that has almost given up. Touching, very.

God Help The Outcasts by © Ruby Del Angel

God Help The Outcasts by © Ruby Del Angel

Finally, Mohawk Man’s poem. It seemed a fitting match to Ruby’s image and a fitting end for these features.

the insanity of inanity by © mohawk man

Trapped
in all my freedom’s glory
not a care in the world
nor a worry
save the love of my lives

Caged
by the very uselessness that set me “free”
with too much time
to ponder
the what if’s of yesterday

Hopeless
seems tomorrow
regardless of the dreams
of a young man
with the world in his hands

Enjoy!

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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.

TBF Group Features – Week of March 7, 2010

“A work of art is a world in itself reflecting senses and emotions of the artist’s world.” Hans Hoffman

Michelle, ma bell by Sophie-Berger

A POEM’S ESSENCE by Cosimopiro

If every poem ever written,
since the first scratch
chiselled in rock,
was placed in a wizards pot
and
boiled down
to one last syllable,
can one single grain,
lone letter,
a poem be,
capturing essence
and
feelings
or
does it need company
to give it more meaning?
Can “I”
stand alone
and be read
with self satisfaction
or does it need “YOU”
to stand beside
for conviction
and
recognition?

A breeze came through by Vicki Griffiths

I never could pull off a good poker face by Lisa Jewell

There is no pretence in being contradictory. If I travel from the east then shift course and hitch a ride on the back of the west wind, am I a free spirit or am I flighty? I can wake with my shattered heart curled up next to me; then the very next morning, I have to tightly hold the string of my balloon heart, so it won’t escape out the bedroom window. How is this possible? How can one heart behave in such contradictory ways? My cave is cosy and deep within its walls I feel bliss, but I would be remiss in not confessing. I do long to be held and kissed for a lifetime of hours.

Sense by Manoyla F.

Praestus Proboscis by ianez

snap.

snap.

snap.

snap.
my fingerprints a linger,
upon each shiny little culet.
fondle, then press __ snap…
each pearl so perfectly fits.

your scent has perfected its continuity.
brushing of itself amidst my olfactory.
bringing with it hints of your palms,
pressed paralax to this she.
to me.

© Jorjia Ianez

Fragments by Elox

Soul by Bill Bell

By the sunshine
in the narrow crack below the blinds
I’d judge that I’m late for something
reaching down I find the sheets
and go back to sleep
Then I don’t know
if I’m dreaming in the twilight
people come and go
some I haven’t seen in years
I guess they’re dead to you
out of sight and out of mind until
you either find them in the obituaries
or knocking at your door
between the planes of interpretation
at the edge of the morning light
trying to be real
trying to extend the story
trying to be something more
then merely soul.

I saw her in the grocery store
coming up the cereal aisle
no older then she had been before
until we were upon one another
then she aged in an instant except for a smile
she’d kept intact then built experience around.
She had two grown children and one in high school
she patted me on the arm and walked away
shedding time as she went an old ache
blossomed and died.

Theres a piano playing
someone left the radio on
the voice of John Lennon singing Imagine.
Clouds streaming over
days on rented beaches
feverish whispers on summer nights
with the windows open
hearing other peoples conversations
no different then your own
there’s a muted piano playing
someone left the radio on.

I rolled over on my left shoulder
noticing I was alone without opening my eyes
the void is warm and I go down again
Standing at a bus station
my father extends his hand to shake
and I hesitate
knowing we will meet again under different rules.
Hold on tight
give a firm handshake
your interpretations of other peoples thoughts
are only by accident right
do it for yourself and the rest will turn out
said a voice already in my head.

Trying ot extend the story
trying to become something more
then merely soul
they’ve forgotten what they were
they merely hearten on
an echo
catch me on the dew point of morning
half awake
turn the radio on softly
see what comes to visit.

Alice in Wonderland – 20 years later by MagpieMagic

dear friend… by Siki Dlanga

let them rip your skin,
let them rip your clothes,
let them rip, let them rip.
the cells will grow back the skin you lost
you will have better clothes
but don’t let them rip your heart….
if that does happens,
if at all it does!
then know this;
there is an everlasting promise
of a brand new heart
and that one cannot be touched
by any vile thing.

(c) siki dlanga
05.03.2010

almost up close and personal by wildwomenlove

Where did our love go? by Laurie Search