TBF Features for the week of May 29, 2011

Hello, friends, again. On this Memorial Day I share my features with you. I almost never find a theme, I leave that up to you, the audience. Love, Duffboy

End Of The Road by Mojca Savicki

I like you like you… by Marlana Marry

The Dancer And The Window by photoart222

 

Spirit Wings by Elspeth McLean

 

Deciduous by Adara Rosalie

 

LiveLoveLaugh by Randy Monteith

 

Perception by ShadowDancer

i want us to feel alive,
to feel the knowing,
the having been there
the feel of the burn of each breath
life is a gift
why do you waste it
like fools looking for water
in the rain
this is the time of your life
to make things, do things
no more tv and
quibbling over needless things
let us hold hands as we walk down
a path of enlightenment
let us see Egypt without the pyramids
in the tiny corners of markets where the locals stay
and children sell plastic shopping bags
for a penny
hoping to make enough to
pay the man that sends them out
in return for less abuse that day
let us open our eyes and see New York
in all her grittiness
dirty and raw and full of people screaming
from hurt and the taste of street food
under their nails
look closer at Iraq
not the place we see in the media
eating lollipops from the army and saying
“Bless the USA”
but the real people that have lost
son and uncle and husband
and every woman they know
raped by white invaders AND their own kind
stop seeing right through the little boy
whose father tortures him
fills his nights with fear and
the family that sits at night
hungry
hoping next time they
will have food to fill
the empty stomachs of their kids
be alive
to see the reality of life
the real deal
not the Beaver life Americans
choose to see instead
turn off your fucking tv
open your ignorant mind
turn to the world
see

please just for once
open and really
see

Great Wall of China Charity Walk -on behalf of Scope- (journal) by HamperRefuser

On the 22nd of October 2011 Susie, Rachel and Anna will be embarking on an epic fund raising challenge. We will be going to trek the Great Wall of China (yes we are mad!).

We are doing this on behalf of Scope, the charity for people with cerebral palsy. We will be walking for five long days and covering over 50 kilometres of winding paths and steep steps. We expect blisters, tears and tantrums but we have decided to take on this challenge because Scope is very close to our hearts. Rachel’s brother Daniel, 28, was born with cerebral palsy. Daniel is physically disabled, unable to talk and bound to wheelchair, needing 24 hour care. Daniel is a cheeky, smiley, fun loving guy , with huge enthusiasm and passion for life,(and girls!) but unfortunately his only means of communication is through a computer. Anna and Susie have known Rachel, Daniel and their family for a long time and have a built a strong and close relationship with them which is why this challenge is so important to us all.

Every 6 hours a child is born with cerebral palsy. Cerebral palsy is the most commonly diagnosed physical condition in the U.K, and occurs around the time of birth when part of the brain fails to develop properly. It can happen to any child. Scope is the largest charity in the U.K working with people with cerebral palsy, their families and carers. The money raised from the Great Wall of China Trek will allow Scope to continue running their vital services which are designed to support disabled people in every aspect of their lives, from birth through to adulthood. Scope’s aim is that disabled people achieve equality in everyday life.

We have pledged to raise a total of £7000 for Scope. All we are asking is that you can donate as much or as little as you can to this worthy cause. Literally, every penny will help us reach our goal. Scope is currently only able to reach 1 in 4 people who need help. With your support, Scope will reach more people. To set the ball rolling we have donated the first £600 ourselves.

Please visit our Just Giving page to make a donation:

www.justgiving.com/SusieRachAnna

Donating through JustGiving is simple, fast and totally secure. Your details are safe with JustGiving – they’ll never sell them on or send unwanted emails. Once you donate, they’ll send your money directly to the charity and make sure Gift Aid is reclaimed on every eligible donation by a UK taxpayer. So it’s the most efficient way to donate – I raise more, whilst saving time and cutting costs for the charity. Remember, if you are an individual U.K tax payer, Scope can claim Gift Aid on your donation. This is where the government reimburses Scope with the tax you have already paid on your gift-at no extra cost to you. In order for Gift Aid to be added to your donation, please tick the box on the website.

We will also be arranging exciting fundrasing events to help reach our total! We will let you know when we have decided on dates etc.

Thank you so much for sponsoring us. We will update you all regularly to keep you up to date with our training, fundraising and after the trip to let you know how we got on, if we survived and more importantly, how much we raised!

Thank you again, your sponsorship means a lot to us.

Love Susie, Rachel and Anna

 

We are holy in our own skin first by misfit1965

We are holy in our own skin first.
Not just when we get dressed to go to church
Our homes are houses of prayer
Our homes are houses of praise
Our houses are cathedrals to God
before they are anything else
Our houses are temples
we give them to Jesus to drive
out whatever needs to be driven out
whatever unclean thing sits on a shelf
collecting dust,
idols we used to pant and run after
GOD IS A JEALOUS GOD
If He has our hearts,
it will be totally surrendered
We are vessels to God’s Glory
to His Sanctifying Grace
We model Heaven here first
in our own bodies
Temples to His Holiness
His Holy Spirit is inside of the walls
of human flesh
so much He gave of Himself
never must we defile
or use Grace to sin
Our houses are shrines to His Glory
though our tents are weak vessels
God houses the beginning of Heaven
within these falling walls He considered
so precious He chose to die
chose to become a curse
for the objects of His Affection
We are holy in our own skin first
to be vessels of Mercy and Love,
We are holy in our own skin first
the beams of our own self-righteousness
the thorns of our efforts must be ripped
When God rips out the thorns from flesh
so pale and weak
it is so we can die
so we can die
so we can die
when He buries the gangrene from our fallen flesh
it is so we can live
it is so we can live
He must pull out the visions
of our own corruptions
The Holy Spirit beckons us
to come die
to lay down and be slain
be slain from this world

 

My Dorothy Parker Moment (I) by mss3

When a woman provides a feast
Her man may always banquet
Might be best to throw her a carat
And take her off the market

 

Evergreen by MaryMac

All good girls stay home
awaiting
sitting at home she gets a call
he said,
“I dig you baby, ”
she said.
“Well, I don’t know.”

Honey.put that black dress on
the one I see you wearin’
the one with the buttons
all up and down the back
like the verse in …MaryMac.

Okay you play your guitar
and sing me a song

doves flying overhead
Lookin’ up as he…enters
time to kill the pain
oh why the acid rain…

you alright baby
I’am not hurting you, am i
No, darlin’ please talk to me…
Whisper in my ear, okay?

All good girls stay home
Evergreens
standing the test of time
Colour
growth each year
morning glory and midnight sun
time will tell if we’ve learned to sail above
a thousand words
a picture paints
The words NEVER show
ME the one I’ve come to know.
My love for life is open and tolerant
“The Holies” read my heart
I simply fly away from hate
hummingbird I’am
in Indian folklore…

Kiss my neck darlin’
play your guitar
I’ll sit… a spill working
A muse begins to bubble
I love you.

05/16/2011
marymac

 

Tear me open by redolentquill

The lampshade quivers
Shadows push the walls
Lumps seep down my voice
Your toes twitch, head sinks
In my heart warms a
Throbbing emptiness
What is there to do
What is there to want
In the now of things

Knotted tangles
Tightening on themselves
Helpless attempts, rushing
Moths, into their end
Eternally drawn
No thoughts I have

Only words
Hung in the room of
My being
Wafts of fumes
From blown off flames
Which way out

Perhaps just rattle
Heart doors
Till walls crumble down

Seamless, fuse
be window and sight
open over no walls

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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!

Features 1-23-11

I don’t really know what these features have in common this week. The images and writing just really jumped out at me. I think they all have a story to tell and a strong emotion to express. So here you go, this week’s features full of beauty, pain, and all that’s in between:

man
Untitled by Thomas Acevedo

A Walk Down Joshuas Path by Jascie Epinn

Two nights and a day had passed
when we walked along Joshua’s path
You had a cigarette behind your ear
Clearly you could see I was sad
about how we lost all that we had
But you couldn’t stay somber
You turned to me
Your heart in your lungs
And you took my hand
before you sung to me
to me…

And you said
What’s the kind of guy you dream of?
Who is he to me?
What are the kind of clothes he wears?
Cause that’s who I ought to be.
You said
I don’t know if I can find him
But I’ll try my best
I’ll turn my life around
and God will handle the rest

Three weeks and eight months had passed
when we took a ride down Joshua’s path
You had a look on your face that was unclear
Clearly you could see that I was mad
my hardened eyes were iron clad
But you couldn’t stay somber
You pulled over
Your mind in your heart
I turned my head
before you could start again
again..

And you said
What’s the kind of guy you dream of?
Who is he to me?
What are the kind of clothes he wears?
Cause that’s who I ought to be.
You said
I don’t know if I can find him
But I’ll try my best
I’ll turn my life around
and God will handle the rest

Four weeks and two years had passed
when I went walking down Joshua’s path
holding a letter ending in sincere
Because that day, I didn’t crash
but I’d prefer that I had
then maybe I’d forget about that summer
I knelt over
My heart in my soul
and placed that letter
near your bowl
and it reads…

And you said
What’s the kind of guy you dream of?
Who is he to me?
What are the kind of clothes he wears?
Cause that’s who I ought to be.
You said
I don’t know if I can find him
But I’ll try my best
I’ll turn my life around
and God will handle the rest

3 hoods
Sigh No More by Matteo Pontonutti

Drum Solos are Boring by Antonio Raymondo

Stop beating your own drum!
It’s a tiresome sound.
It rings hollow.
It’s got no rhythm.
Like your life, meaningless, shallow!

Stop beating your own drum!
It’s a terrible din!
You’re an empty vessel,
A pathetic charade.
Like a cheap Hollywood set,
A flimsy facade!

STOP BEATING YOUR OWN DRUM!
I can’t jam with that noise!
You’re like a spoilt child
Who won’t share their toys.
When will you stop beating your own drum?
Hasn’t anyone told you that……

DRUM SOLOS ARE BORING!!!

pagan
Sometimes When by Rowanmacs

The Master Drinks life’s Elixir by Blake Steele

Eyes wide open, mouth open,
hands grasping and releasing
the Master drinks Life’s elixir
and gurgles his delight.
In his eyes stars shine,
bears waltz, leopards prowl,
a horse kicks up and prances.
Upon the soft pink mountain
he laughs:
he gave up a kingdom for this,
the fame of a thousand worlds,
even the wild love of his heart:
that woman whose will
had brought down castle walls
and slain ten thousand men.
Someone had slapped him
when he came through the door.
He forgave the poor fool instantly
though something in his bones
would not forget it.
Blind fools! Insolent arrogance!
So much to accomplish here
in another alien world.
So much to do
as soon as he
outgrew his nappies.

hat
You can leave your har on by madworld

Re.Joy.Sing by Cynthia Lund Torroll

Welcome Home
to the place
that is inviolate
to the place
where patience waited
graciously…

The timing is meaningless
It happened –
The joining
of a lost soul
to her hearth
Manifestation
over Cacophony –
a wellspring of pure peace
rendering the outer shell
as window dressing
a tiny fraction
of The Life beneath…

She’ll reside there
without fear –
the impostor seen
and still loved
for all her heartfelt efforts
for all her machinations
she thought she knew
aWay but finally saw
she just had to
get out of Her Way…

The storm is over
The time is still
Sensations tickle
her outer form
She can laugh
She can be
She rejoices
and greets
each noble guest
each mystery
each thought cloud
with Her Beingness…

boat
Comfortably Numb by Carol K

Dark Wings of Night by Redqueenself

Dark Wings of Night

Darkness of the heart
from unexpected paths flies in.
The questions start
and the doubts begin,
flickering in the corner of your eye,
whispering a dark and wicked lie.
Soft wings of grey
flutter with the dawn.
The wolf hour floats away
in the brightness of the morn.
Quivering briefly, just in sight,
faith so hard to grasp at night.

girl
Sweet surrender by Strawberries

Forests of the Heart by Sybille Sterk

Bitter-bitter word shards
Cutting my lips to shreds
Dripping black ink snakes
Onto the pristine white paper
Shaped by the solicitous pen
Into syllables and words

Sing-song word notes
Dancing on the page
In undulating conga lines
From the left to right
Called to order by the pen
Into verses and rhymes

Pineapple-scented words
Flavouring the ink
With little bursts of lemon
Golden sunshine days
Forever engraved by the pen
Into minds and hearts

Pen in my hand
I get ready for the day
Exorcising demons
Banishing shadows
Sharing my heart
Baring my soul

Painting mindscapes
Sketching soulscapes
Growing Forests of the Heart

Touched by Fire features (week of December 26, 2010)

Hello, dear friends. So… it’s time for 2010’s last features. Please enjoy this assorted bits of passion from our Touched By Fire artists and writers. May you cherish all within your life, this and every other night of the year.

My best to you, Duffboy

 

Iceman by Gabriel Forgottenangel

 

Vision by LisaMM

 

[couldesac II] by Bande I part

 

Light by Rishani Sittampalam

 

Miami by Isa Rodriguez

 

catch the wind by vampvamp

 

Culture Shock by lovelyrita

I will never be like you
With your beer bottle in hand
Your hair a parachute, land
on the floor, big feet small shoes.

You wave your Budweiser high
in the air where all can see.
You’re buzzed and you’re a beauty
still – your hands reach for the sky

And I watch you raise the roof
From my lonely letter seat
Wearing shoes to match my feet
I’ll look for lingering proof

That the lettuce you’re eating
tastes like the leaves on my dish
Despite my desperate wish
for flavor’s visit’s fleeting

In each fork and dress and square –
And even your figure-eights
Dry like wine you pour like greats
I add salt and pepper there

You’re a doll and I’m a wolf
Village moppet, discount rate.
Pour another, stand up straight
The camera’s on you.

 

through the vines by robin ellen lucas

through the vines
connecting my blood to infinity
i move so that i can water
your roots.
they reach out to me so…
each with its own strength, its own sound
its own breath, its own life
yet moving together as one.

i find you
where you are raw
not dark
but vulnerable
needing to be held
to feel safe
my breath, my attention
to your every need
your every call for touch
to be an open room
for you to pour your soul into.
you ask that of me
and i hear you.

your warmth has the power to soothe
and pierce me
to puncture the balloon
where i keep my secrets
can you feel it now?
as a bit seeps out
released in the air, to the open
to find its way
no longer trapped, no longer secret.

a veil between you and me
its thin yet it covers
that which we need to protect
until time opens its wings for our flight.

r.e.l. 4/7/10

[ as also posted on my blog … entitled, through the vines ]

 

DO IT, IT’S CHRISTMAS by HamperRefuser

I would love to stay
But
Apparently I am leaving
Not
Through choice
I
Do not control
My
Own being
For
I
Have
People to do that for me
In
This stilted way
How
Could
I
Think
In
This
World of confusion
Fuse on
The means of giving
Buy into it
It is
Christmas
A great
Excuse
For
Armed robbery
And taking someone’s
Soul
That they trapped
In
Commercialism
And
Consumerism
What I take is worthless in
Truth
As it is unessential
To cling onto
That
Idiot box
Think for yourself
And
Be there
For
One
Other
In spirit
Not
For
Financial
Purpose
Merry Christmas
Blinded buyers
Of my
Product
I
Am
Pleased
It is
Always
Coca Cola
Is Santa’s
Suit
Green
Not
Red?

Oops
I screwed you idiots
Over
And over
Again.

 

Rape by ShadowDancer

A smile appears on your face
as you pillage her body and
discard her soul;
as if you told a timid joke
that she could hear
but not understand.

Pain gushes inside of her,
rushing forth like blood
from a morbid wound;
it’s a knife that twists her heart
into a tangled pile of hate.

She is now
but a small scar on the world.
She would rather enter the throne of Hades
than relive that fate-less moment,
for it has reduced her to a painful fear
that she is unable to ignore;
a fear that causes
her to live in a frozen world,
one where she watches
others moving forward
yet she herself no longer knows
how to move on.

You touched her for your own sick joy,
to fulfill some twisted fantasy,
while removing her ability to feel.
You never thought of love or trust,
of the way a woman dreams for it to be.
This is why you are not a man,
you are a serpent, cold, calculating,
and always searching for your next prey,
shedding your skin in between
as if you could so easily discard
the terrible things you do.

She will survive your
probing fingers
and your coy smile possessing no shame.
But you- you have the blood
of her free soul on your hands,
a part of her soul that will forever be pillaged.
This is a mark that will never fade,
even when you change your skin
and smile at the next pray
with your forked tongue
and slithery heart.

Go ahead,
pray for your own soul, bastard,
be assured that no one else will ask
for God to give you mercy,
the mercy you never thought to give to her.

 

Flowers for Kathleen – In Memory of Kat (journal entry) by lilynoelle

A beautiful artist and writer has left us. In memory of her, I would like to start the “Flowers For Kathleen” project: submit a photo, painting, or poem revolving around a flower. Title it “A Flower For Kat” or “Flowers For Kathleen,” etc. If we can come together and do this, it will be a beautiful reminder of our commitment as artists to stick together, and – more importantly – a good memorial for a woman who only lived 23 years.

Here is a link to one of her lovely poems: http://www.redbubble.com/people/katcollins
And here is a link to a beautiful artwork: http://www.redbubble.com/people/katcollins/art/5685684-1-dreaming-about-tomorrow

Peace

Lily

 

Car Wreck by kashmirecho

We were in a car. You were driving, an odd thing because you never drove. I was always the driver. But for some reason you had to pick me up in my car. You were driving my car. I was the passenger. We were driving on the interstate, driving at interstate speeds. We were talking. I don’t remember exactly what about. But you turned and looked at me, with this look on your face. I knew in that instant there was no stopping you. You looked back at the road and yanked the wheel to the left directing us into the median. No stopping us now. I don’t think I even had a seat belt on. I lunged at you and held onto your waist for all dear life. I held on. I held on. I closed my eyes and held on. We crashed. The car crashed. Other cars crashed. There was smashing and grinding and metal scraping. It was a car wreck on the interstate. You caused it and I couldn’t deny it, there was evidence everywhere. But I did not let go of you. I held on. I held on to you because you are all I needed and you needed me worse.

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.

As intended.. a pairing of zen and peace

I love it when I recently finished a piece of work and I find someone else is on the same astral plane as me. I normally don’t upload my own work to the blog, but I just completed a photo and then came across this poem by Paul that evoked the same feelings in me that inspired my own piece. I hope you enjoy.

muted whispers of the songs of seabirds by Pj Djennel

muted whispers of the songs of seabirds by pj djennel

As intended by Paul (Quixote) Alleyne

From the highest mountain top
I can see thru the clarity of my mind’s eye
I can see the undulating valleys
and meandering, shimmering rivers;
where men in boats haul in their catch
I can see the deep, silent ocean off in the far distance reflecting the warm, evening sun
I can hear birds chirping as they enjoy their time of play
I can see kids playing under the waterfalls;
swimming and bathing in shallow, crystal clear pools of waters
I can see broad color ranges of foliage for miles and miles, and miles
I can see men and women toiling happily in the fields,
harvesting the crops for the feast yet to come

There is no hunger here
No debilitating disease here
No fear of war here
Just an abundance of love and sharing and contentment

Isn’t this the way you intended it to be?
Yes, you answer.
I concur
.

Features 8-30-10

This week I am going with a theme of the dreamworld and the subconscious mind. We often dream to vent out our fears and stresses from our waking lives. I was looking for images that were dreamy, spiritual, and surreal; and also ones dealing with our deepest fears. Writing, especially poetry, is often dreamy and full of subconscious imagery. I tried to pick writing that dealt with two of our biggest themes in dreams, death and love. Some of the writing just sounded like a dream feels.
I will start with the image that inspired the theme:
Power of dream
Power of a Dream by LisaMM

I Give You My Flower by Linaji

I am giving you my flower,
Because I feel your seed explode
The cosmos gets lonely on Saturday.

My flower has a shameless smell that may
conjure you a dream
This dream will give you strength

Where you are I have been
The soil was rich with nitrates and oxides
But come certain times of the year
That soil turns to dust

You are left to fend for yourself
And the barren garden burns your
Eyes and nose

So come over here and let me hold your
Hand, let me just understand
And give you my flower.

Linaji 2010

Dolphin
Dolphin Dreaming by Angel Gold

The Crescent Moon by JetMannHenry
Tonight

You will lay;
Alone
on the crescent moon.

Leave yourself behind.

Tonight

I will play
vigorously
in the memory of..

Love

in the memory of…

Us

in the memory of….

You

Tonight

We will stay,
masked in the shadows
dancing on mood dust
running on crevises
sleeping alone
on the surface of..
the crescent moon. ©

Seum
Seum by vampvamp

Unfolded Down-Under by Lenny Carpet Cleaner

spring is the rising of the leaves
the thinning out of Steves

jack and jill lying on a roll
fit for the uranium pit

licking up the frost off the clit of now
the hills are alive with the likes of you

beyond the outsiders, momentary gods
trip the liff of thought, vanity’s fete

of course you can stay
august is really the month of may

holy spirit! blasphemed the puritan
tan 61 degrees is just a PhD

oh, it’s a long way to the prawn shop
if you beget to sell Johann’s Seoul

dude looks like a lady
but(t) the lady is a tramp
tom thumb waits, I just can’t

a tragicomedy reversed
the cacophony of
well meant rehearsals, a-ha!

“time for elevenses?”
the buck stops here.

steel breast
Steel Breast Light Arms by Rosa Cobos

When Nothing Is A Good Thing by Sandy Sutton

They tell me that
having nothing is
good for the soul
being nothing is different
the art of having nothing is
refreshing
replenishing
it makes you realise
who you are
when you may
count yourself
as possessions
and a figure on paper
that is an accrued
total of your fiscal wealth
the art of having nothing is
an accrued total
of you
of your
accomplishments
of your good deeds
and your bad
it is the thing
you will carry
with you when
the end is near
when in your fear
you realise
that it’s your
vision of yourself
that matters
in the end
not your possessions
not your money
not even the love you see
in the eyes of your children
or even their children
for that matter

it is the art of you
the art of life
the paintings you create
within yourself
the sculpture
you have created
out of you
for you and only
you
the image
you have of
you
is the only you
that matters

It Is You

Judgement
Judgement by Martin Muir

Stalks
It Stalks All of Us by Berns

But to die in the joy of knowing that I pursued my dream to the end or just the beautiful beginning by Blanchot

How poor a creature he must be who in his last moment cries out,
“But if only, I had followed my heart, eschewing the cold logic of my head and the creeping ice of the compartmental crypt so soon to be?”

I refuse that being.
I refuse his cowardice and the stale scent of the pillow at his side.

Rather, I celebrate my dream: realized!
I steadfastly refuse all issue of doubt:
“Do you have any idea what you are in for?”

Fools to have even asked: for my answer can only be a celebration of the equivocal. Nonetheless an unprecedented celebration it damn will be.
“Yes, I am ‘in for’ a love sublime: a love, which most will approach only in the perfection of nature’s allowance of the summer peach’s nectar.”
“No, for I am also in for an adventure the likes of which would make a proud woman of Scheherazade herself.”

Will I make it through the thousand and one nights?
“Seek thy oracle not in this stone abode.”
Will I live every night I have to the fullest?
“You’re goddamn right!”

While the life of the mind may well appear—as it so often did to me—the apogee of human achievement; it is only through the chambers of the heart that transcendence sings its siren’s song.

Long live the heart!
Mysteries, joys, pains, and all; glorify the hymn of love and of lovers!

© 08/25/09

goddess
Goddess of Light by Scott Black

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

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
something
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

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..
So,
Soo Long… Stay gone!

Standing, searching
For
Needs never found

So Long;
Stay Gone…

Spent all your;
Days,
Always
Walkin’ round
with
Clouds in your eyes

an’ I..

Wait no more..

‘Cause, I
Waited, waiting
and I’m;
Waiting, waited..
So,
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

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
And
Ten
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
Complete

Rain…
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
Why
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
Tomorrow
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

TBF Features – June 20, 2010


“Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once; just once, understand.”

It’s time to experience the passions of life through the eyes of someone else. Be prepared to be awash with emotion from the following features.

Water Souls by Ming Myaskovsky

for Mariette by Wingpoem

And we talk
Of lambs and doves
Trust and friendship
Marriage and poetry
And we play
In deepest sincerity
Vulnerability
And nakedness
And we love
For what else is there?
And we laugh
Because we need to
And we cry
Because we can’t hold back
And we come together
Because it fulfills
Everything

New Beginnings by Cherie Sayer

new beginnings by cherie sayer

The Number © by Hector A. Encinas

I want you to know.
I’m not coming back.
Shut the screen off and,
look into my eyes,
Before I go.
I’m not coming back.

If my soul had been a dog.
I would have drowned it,
At birth.

I keep thinking of the dirt nap.
And my mouth buzzes’ like a fridge.
I don’t know myself anymore;
And I don’t know my nature,
Like I probably should.

If I could,
Keep writing what I write.
What comes to me from inside;
Somewhere.

I wouldn’t want to.
I wouldn’t,
Want to know who I am.
I don’t.

Ill take the midnight drive.
Tonight;
A hundred past miles an hour.
I’ll take the midnight drive.
Tonight;
And take that final flight,
Off the road,
And into eternal night.
Where I’ll see death in the eyes with o fear.

I want you to know.
I’m not coming back.
Look into my eyes,
I’m not coming back.
I’m not coming back………….

(And for a minute there, I lost my self.
Then,
I remembered her.)

I lost my self, deep in her soul.
That light that I had thought extinct,
From the human soul.
There,
It was.
She was something to have faith and hope for.
Something I had lost in complete.

Id found myself in the dodos conundrum.
Wanting to take flight,
And not having the wings to do so.

I lost my self, deep in her soul.
Almost like falling in love with something you don’t know.
I came back to life.
That night,
On the midnight drive.

And for a minute there, I lost my self…..
I lost my self…..

She did quite “the number” on me that night.

Keys by Cherie Sayer

inhaling the heaven or hell of you by Kristin Reynolds

I wish I could say
i smelled you coming
from a mile away—
but all angel’s scents
are one in the same:

graveyards, birthdays,
static and gold,
weapons and blood,
darkness and light.

One way or
another:
you found me

and i
breathed you

in.

© Kristin Reynolds 6 19 2010

ironing out the matters of the heart by helene ruiz

ironing out matters of the heart by helene ruiz

everything and you. by Alondra Blick

It’s really like a symphony, if you listen close enough. Deep enough. Drunk enough. The difference is, I liked classical music, until I met you. I never liked beer, until the taste was like your lips meeting mine, the first time when we were shy. It felt uncomfortable in an exhilarating way. The millions of miles of skin that were still unknown. The lives and the friends and the habits and the way you moved in bed, worried to wake me, unsure of my sleeping patterns or how I’d like to be held. And the feeling of your body, returning to the sheets still damp with soap and a shower taken before waking hours. I would have liked to love you then. Would have liked to picture us standing still, eyes awake and unchanging while the blurred lines of light and lives and memory rushed by us. I would have loved to watch our bodies tumble down the years, gracious and quiet. And on the first night, I dreamt you had changed your mind, and so I buried my head into your back and spent a minute just memorizing the moment. The feeling of your breath shaking your soft frame, and of the mingling of our skin, and the smell of you, and the delicate morning hesitating to push forward. But life moves heavy and quickly and the streets empty and fill like the sea and the waning moon, and small and large things grow steadily, and we are of no consequence. We do not listen to voices in sleep who whisper our mistakes. In another time perhaps, we would have mourned the past, and prayed and shaken the coating of winter from our shoulders, hushed and cold, and moved ahead to the sound of the ritual spring. But instead we gathered our clothes, arranged the morning and made remarks about the future, like it was a living thing that belonged to us. And from the kitchen I could hear the road soaking up the rain and see the mist soaring upwards each time a car or truck passed through. And soon all these things, and all the others would be fragments, nonsensical and vague. Part of a distant time. Mixed up with things that should not have been there. Cluttered halls, and strip malls and afterhours, and the moon, and bars, and cafes, and desperation, and routine, and strangers, and city lights, and admissions, and guilt, and the cold.
It’s really like a symphony, if you listen close enough.

blue profile by frederic levy-hadida

blue profile by frederic levy-hadida

Talk to me by Siki Dlanga

When you talk to me,
I forget that I exist.
Your words become me.

(c) siki dlanga
21.06.2010

mind set, 2010 by flovie

mind set 2010 flovie

Nobody’s Son by Trenchtownrock

I have had many saviors
hung around my neck
rosary prayer tears
fragrant offering
Buddha
Muhammad
the old and new Jesus
gully baptism
still can’t wash
stench of
what never was
what could never be
fingers
planted roots
in the earth’s surface
trying to be born
of something
rotted corpse
unearthed
the I am
without flesh
try to replant
seeped through skin
history’s seed
flourishing
my twenty first century
Golgotha
Pilate’s edict
head to toe
proclamation
midnight hanging
holy water
springing from veins
imperfect gods
becoming perfect
born to be sacrificed
I stopped being afraid
once my mama pulled me
from between her legs
stripping away the umbilical chain
looking at me with closed eyes
trying to stuff me back
in her tomb
a mother’s love
hymen doors closed
modern day Mary
without the immaculate daydream
job completed
heard through a baby’s cry.

Passion of Dance – Art of Richard Young

Dancing is like dreaming with your feet! ~Constanze

Turkish Delight by Richard Young

Turkish Delight by Richard Young

In art, the human body has been captured in all forms of movement, and I find myself especially riveted when I come across pieces that encapsulate the movement and motions of dance. There is something so commanding, dreamlike, passionate, and romantic in the way the position of the arms, legs, muscles and body combine in pose of a dance movement.

Richard Young is a painter from the UK whose fine works really steal my breath at each glance. His use of color palette, play with light, shading, and contrast, and focus on the emotion of his pieces leaves the viewer feeling as if they were privy to an intimate secret moment with the subject. They are full of passion, sensuality, and mood.


I especially appreciated this quote from his portfolio on his own ideas of what he would like art to mean; It was ironic to me when I read this after already writing half of this blog, since his perspective coincides with the goal of Touched By Fire :

It is also both satisfying and fulfilling, a way of seeing the world differently, seeing yourself differently, opening and challenging your thoughts to a different perspective and wider dimension, arousing your senses and stimulating your mind…

He also has a gallery of works on musicians, the human form, and wildlife. Please check out his redbubble page or his own website to view more of his portfolio and learn more about his technique and passion for art.