Features 4/07/2010

I have a thing about portraits, good ones that is – not the snapshots we take to remind us of a situation, location or person, but the ones that truly reflect the personality of the subject and what’s inside.

So with this in mind, here are my features for this week…

See by Angel Warda


See by Angel Warda

I love that the image just shows one side of the face and the stark contrast in the image itself. Both make the image really intense and focus on the eye. Brilliant shot and the perfect image to go with

Reflections by Mia Rose

i think i understand now
about love

that a lover may be lost
but love can never vanish
not if it finds a home
inside your soul

I think I understand now
that my sorrow
grew out of the illusion
that love only grows
in presence
and always dies
in absence

i think i understand now
that love
is bigger
than loss

A very eloquent look inside to see what you may see.

The colours and the perspective of this next portrait are fabulous. There’s so much emotion in there and a sense of confidence and independence:

Afterwards by Tania Losada


Afterwards by Tania Losarda

I thought this self-affirming poem was a perfect mate for the image:

So Long By JetMannHenry

So Long;
Stay Gone..

‘Cause, I
Waited, waiting
and I’m;
Waiting, waited..
Soo Long… Stay gone!

Standing, searching
Needs never found

So Long;
Stay Gone…

Spent all your;
Walkin’ round
Clouds in your eyes

an’ I..

Wait no more..

‘Cause, I
Waited, waiting
and I’m;
Waiting, waited..
Soo Long… Stay gone!

The colours and the sense of magic and self containment in the next image is captivating:

Fae by Jessica Walker


Fae by Jessica Walker

Which is why I teamed it up with this perfectly to the point poem:

Paralysis by Siki Dlanga

You can
Pin me to the wall
And love me
Resuscitate my heart
With your breathless kisses
I’m paralysed by your love

There’s such a sense of drama and romance about this next shot. I love, love the colours and the feeling of Spring:

Lady Spring & Silence by Rosa Cobos

Lady Spring & Silence

Lady Spring & Silence by Rosa Cobos

And here’s a beautiful and touching poem to go with it:

Years Left On A Blade Of Grass by lolowe

Leave a tack print
Dent in the ground
Wooden stilted footsteps
Pad the backyard distance
Of a run ten years too fast
For my feet to catch up

So here
I wait
Until I hear the swirl of your laughter
Break through the blades of grass
Toes reach the end of the run down
White picket fence
Painting innocence
Back into its jaded stripped color

I never wearied
Of mornings spent
Finding the trails you run
Until suddenly
They curved into the
Shadows of places
That had fit your vibrant heart
Like its own sheer cover
It was here
That I saw a soft darkness
Speckle the sunlight of you
And expose the Chameleon smile

Was this…
The reason you were always moving?
So that the darkness didn’t find
In you its own likeness?

It was as if you became a blur
A figure in constant movement
Even as I slept and I knew
Only ten minutes away
You dreamt
I saw you as dark clouds
Pushed by the wind
I was trying to figure out a shape
And saw only the ink soaked
Cotton tendrils of something
Not quite

So swift it sounded like
The rustle of your jacket
I looked down ten rows of houses
And found two crows on a telephone line
They signaled death
I waited for brown calloused feet
To print the green of my lawn

Nothing came…
Only storms
Rushing onward
The harsh spill
Of their tears
Washing away
Your existence
In my fragile world

You’ve become just a thought
As hard as it is to let it be so
But yesterday
I caught a blade of grass
Shaded from ten years of sorrow
Its tip turned to a hint
Of long ago summer winds
The frantic flight
Of small brown feet
And I cried

Another magical shot, maybe not a portrait in the strictest sense, but it works for me. One of the most amazing images I’ve seen in a while:

She Sleeps… by Trish Woodford

She Sleeps...

She Sleeps by Trish Woodford

The sense of oneness and stillness and beauty is continued in this poem:

Play it again Sam by ShadowDancer

like the mouthpiece of a saxophone
the love you give
sends notes of gold through my veins

listen to my hearts music
belt out into the still air
as you breath yourself into me

The contrast and textures in this last portrait are fabulous. The warm tones give it a real sense of introspection and reflection.

I waited too long by Octobray

I waited too long

I waited too long by Octobray

And the final poem just seems to encapsulate everything I saw in the image:

Tomorow never comes by Purplecactus

Am I strong enough to find my way
to find myself
Am I the stranger
or is the land in which I live
stranger still

I tell myself that I don’t care
what others think
and yet I hide
within myself
dreaming of what I am too scared to become
Hating myself because of it

I know that I have wings
but keep them folded
I want to fly
Soar with those that I admire
but fear weighs me down

How can it be
that I can’t be me
That I can’t admit
who I am
I chain myself down
I lock myself up
Prisoner and jailer in one

Maybe tomorrow
I say to myself
That day never comes
And so here I am
waiting for a day
Waiting for a way
to set myself free

I hope you enjoy this week’s features. Let me know if you do. MagpieMagic

Features 4-18-10

I am so excited to do my first round of features in TBF, but it was definately not easy.  The quality of art and writing in this group is superb.  Narrowing it down to 6 pieces of art and 6 pieces of writing is an incredibly hard job.  I tried to pick writing that not only grabbed at my emotions, but was lyrical and had a deeper; almost mythical meaning.  I chose art that either had layers of symbolism to bring out emotion, or deep emotions that were right on the surface of the work with no need for symbolism.  Some of the work managed to do both.  I hope you enjoy all of this work as much as I did.

"KAUS" by Mimi Yoon

“KAUS” by Mimi Yoon grabbed me on too many levels to mention. Mimi is one of the most prolific artists on Red Bubble and always amazes me. Lately her work has been addressing deeper issues. This work points to the disruption between the dichotomies of science and religion in such a incredibly emotional way.
Her work goes well with the words of Cosimopiro:
I have but an inkling of a divine spark,
it’s purpose I know not.
In truth I am a young soul,
trying to learn the way of this world.
I go about my daily rituals
like a zen master
yet wonder if I should do more.
If reincarnation
is the order of the day
then this journey I feel
is just opening the first door.
And what of sacrifice?
What must I surrender
to save this world from itself?
The cross I bear
will it suffice?
I tell you,
I am but still a foetus
awaiting to be born,
my only nourishment
is the love of the womb
that houses
my fragile form.

"I want to be" by Magpie Magic

Magpie’s work so beautifully symbolizes transformation as the woman reaches up for the light. The power of this image almost surpasses it’s beauty.

Erika’s beautiful poem “mi luna” is like a enduring song written for moonlight. Also she include the word moonspirals in it, so of course it had my attention. Even without her inserting my username in there, I would have been captivated.

Mi Luna
I scribble
sandlines of secrets
into my hands

the ones I whisper to you

who would’ve thought that I would never be a foreign language to you?

always dreaming of hieroglyphs
and ancient tongues
that taste like tree sap

moving in a golden river,
words flowing in comet form

but I’ve always wondered about stars
the ones
that pour down
your eyes

and make moonspirals
of dark gravity

that leave me


I see
your handwriting
moving in your soul
like memorized poetry


like a prayer –



hauntingly beautiful
like a broken piano



like darting fish
in a holy book

you always told me to believe
and when I search for the moon

I do believe

who would have known that my eyes would be born again
at the sight of you?

for you’re the moon
through the darkness
stars in my hands
because you know my words aren’t foreign

they’re the same as yours

you take my blindness
and turn it into constellations
because you say there are galaxies buried in the future

and you’ve showed me your silver veins in the night sky
in the sandlines of our palms
because you say we’ll need our maps for dreams

you make a hole of light
in my abyss for us to sleep in

and create songs
a heart could understand

you always tell me
to believe

and when I look at you

my moon

I do believe

"Remember" by Tania Losada

“Remember” by Tania Losada is an amazing capture of emotion. I am a total sucker for beautiful portraits like this, and especially when there is strong emotion focussed on the eyes.

tight rope-walker’s poem was lyrical with mythical references and poignantly speaks about our current times.

The Tower of Shittim
In the time of my indulgence
You look after and before
With the inclination of
Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde
Wicked winds whisper secretly
“Its smarter to confide”
Oh but, you sell sea shells
Floating, out by
The Dead Sea shore
Chased by Prince Caspian
And the chill of the sun
On the back of waves
Of frequent mutiny crews
Executed instantly
Like the heart-attack hairs
Of unspeakable family feuds
Fish fingered
Not wanting anymore

I gaze into confessions
Of the wild flowers
Fighting in the night
I see every leaf that’s falling
And Ruth amongst the yellow
Alien delight.
Venus erected perfectly
Inside the floodlit mirror
Of events currently
Arranged. Sitting back
While Pandora’s glory box
Falls into the hands
Of Bathsheba’s exponential
Spelling mistake.
Held together by
Delilah’s imaginary face
Green eyes tied at both ends
With untugged strands of fear
Punched out by the holy weeds
Of overcrowded tears
And then choking
On the brown envelope
Of unlicked despair
Simply to cut off what some…
The fishermen supply

The zealous priest
Raw with peace
Though not indifferent
To temporarily
Lack direction more
Builds an envious journey
Of unaccountable stairs
Now, up standing
At laughter’s doorway
Barely on patrol
With your disjointed thieves
Arguing politics, just
Hanging around
Having heard Barabbas pass
Overhead, he won’t listen to
The popular harp that’s cold
Blinded too by reigns held
In storey time or fall
Seeing plainly salt and
Servants cannot prostitute
What the Jews have not sold
A cruel, twisted sea of red
Which Time was not required
To unfold.

"Amy" by Mariska

Mariska’s Amy is like a classical work full of passion and emotion. Her keen eye for color and composition are clear in this masterful piece.

I loved the imagery in Arcadia Tempest’s poem.
Seed, ripe, eat, plant
i am the authentic infant woman
laugh with me
let’s laugh together
thoughts the nestle of a new womb
a new conception of me

looking at my past buds
long deliberate breaths press
opening and closing books
feeding my eyes
my mind strolling hungry
a tree talked of fruit to me
i forgot to keep listening
sadness the barren fruit

my belt now notched in years
worn with dignity
the circle blossoms a new harvest
i have grown to reach the fruit
i want to share
it is my need

authentic seeds
fertile from the kiss of friendship
growing my future heart
i want to care
it is my seed

i remember the language of trees
seed, ripe, eat, plant
seed, ripe, eat, plant

© K S Hardy 2010

"Triumph of Love" by Ming Myaskovsky

Ming’s work always garners my attention. It shows raw emotion in a Piccasso-esque fashion. Her bold use of color reflects her passion.

The next piece of writing is by Trenchtownrock and shows his amazing talent with picking the right words to induce a feeling. He paints impressionistic paintings with his words.
I Don’t Want to fall in Love
Love came in a Spanish calypso
with sonnets written under a Guantanamo Bay’s moon
it was smoking a Cuban cigar
filled with verses written by romantic poets
blowing clouds of carnival sounds
trying to rewrite the notes to my heart
I almost fell prey
to the sweet tongue kissing my heaven
but then I was awakened from the hypnotic loving
before it stole my rebel
leaving me like those badass poets
who once wrote the history of America with their hungry teeth
volcanic lyrics that made the devil retreat under words
they can now be seen on road side
foaming at the mouth like Macbeth
after interpreting the wrong voodoo
writing love messages in bottles
searching for that predator
who feasted on their hearts
very shortly they will die
cause that is what love will do
filling your inkwell with roses and soft tunes
making you forget to cry
feel the beating heart from graves
of men whose bravery still bleed on my page
I don’t want to fall in love
and have it take away the pain
yesterday needs unearthing
and tomorrow needs replanting.

"Survivor" by Martha Andreatos

Martha’s work is highly powerful. She chose to show the beauty in a body that has been mangled by cancer. The figurative work alone is beautiful, but the message it sends speaks of the human condition.

Matthew Dawkins writing also speaks of a survivor, one that has to survive the mediocrity of others.


The thought of thinking that anyone is judging me, makes me worry about the time they are wasting, thinking about me. I don’t want to feel peering eyes or inquisitive minds. Thoughts of being seen in what could be a trendy state of mind, frightens me into feeling that I must act in a way that makes persona look better yet imposes havoc upon the soul.

My opinions are my own, yet they feel suppressed by the society I have surrounded myself with. I have lost the respect that I have shed sweat, blood, and tears to gain. Is the prospect of a brighter future ahead that makes us try another day?

Everyday you wake up is a day you put on your daily skin of the days of the past. Your concern is to cleanse your under skin so that it looks like your outer skin, thus hiding the skeletons of your closet. Fend off and contort your inner demon to reflect your inept ability to change your soul.

Vile, unholy, yet lacking self-pity. They believe in what they’ve done so unjustly that their soul has no meaning. They feel nothing. They have little to no purpose.
The only substance worth fighting for is your wholehearted, deep-rooted belief that your opinions are sound and true to what you think is…

It’s not the idea to believe in but the idea to believe.

Thanks for reading everyone,
Tammy (Moonspiral)

TBF Group Art Features – Week of January 31, 2010

“There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret, Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I believe this quote and these beautiful pieces of art speak for themselves… if you are touched by them please visit the artists pages and leave a comment.