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. 🙂

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Features 5-30-10

Our little group has gotten quite large and we are now receiving loads of art and writing every week. Therefore I find it easier to do features with a theme in mind, otherwise I could never narrow it down. This week’s theme is centered around wings, angels, death, and freedom. It is about spreading our wings and breaking past the prison of fear.
This first piece of art is by Mariska and is dedicated to her daughter who passed away as a teenager.


“My Angel/ Series 02” by Mariska

This poem is also about dealing with the loss of a loved one, and being able to still connect with them on the otherside.
Tears in Heaven by JetMannHenry
I decided to see a Medium when my older sister asked me
Id always said.. “Im not ready” but on this day, she said that the was coming tomorrow and when she asked.. The words slipped out – “Yes!”
7 years passed and what if I dont like what I hear.
7 years passed and what if he doesnt even come!
Which would be worse?

Am i ready to face this head on?
The medium said to me with a smile.. “Your going to be an interesting one”
He walked me through to another room and we sat in silence while he gathered his thoughts. He told me that his angel will bring forth the strongest prescence for me. One person only. And I held my breath.

My Nana. She had alot of insightful.. Heart stopping. Tear jerking messages that were so accurate, it was hard to be the skeptic I was trying to be.
At the end of this reading, he asked “Jet, is there anything you want to know?”

I took a deep breath.
He wasnt the strongest prescence so did that mean he wasnt there?
So without giving too much away.. I asked “Is there ANYONE else wanting to come through?”
He paused and said to me .. “There is. But your nana is blocking him a bit. She’s not too sure whether to let him through for you”

Tears spilled from my eyes, slowly

Then the medium began to describe him. My angel. My soul mate.
He asked if id lost a child? NO. Too old for that, the age doesnt match your own.
A brother then! NO. you only have sisters.
Then.. “Jet, I feel he is apart of you. A connection like he was a child or a sibling. A strong bond”

And I burst into sobs
He came and he was described perfectly to me. Right down to the “Ive stopped picking my nose, Jet”. (He used to wipe his Snot on me!)

And I cried some more
He apologised to me, for breaking my heart
and he confirmed something I always knew to be true.
He would have lived that night if they had known he had crashed.
He died alone and in pain.
I knew this. This made me mad and has made me mad for 7 years.
But then he told me that he was at peace and that he loved me and the gift I recieved from his mum on my 21st birthday was sent from him.

Johnny Francis Henley. I Love you so. RIP babe. ©

This next image is a powerful image by RavenSoul. To me it speaks to the freedom found in the connection of humans and nature.

Kindred by RavenSoul
“Kindred” by RavenSoul

I liked this poem as it also connects with that theme of freedom in nature.
“Barefoot” by tycatz
I spent my childhood
In a small white house
At the end of a long driveway
Where you couldn’t see the street
Surrounded by an endless forest.

No one told me to wear shoes,
Barefoot
I ran through the woods
Stepping over twigs, acorns,
Pine cones, poison ivy,
Random thorns in the soil.

My feet got dirty,
My skin grew thicker.

One day while exploring
I tripped over a wasp nest.
They all flew out,
My brother and I got stung
Many, many times
And we both cried.

Invade a wasp’s home
And they will defend it.
They were far more scared
Than I was.

Cuts, stings, bruises, splinters,
They all heal.

I no longer fear bees.
I know what poison ivy looks like.
I’m still a child of nature.
I still run barefoot.
I feel clumsy in shoes.

This next piece gives me a feeling of release from the fears and restrictions of life.

Floating by Tori Yule

“Floating” by Tori Yule

This poem is also about the release from life that death can bring. The imagery, wording, and theme here is powerful and heart wrenching.

“When the lights go dark” by trenchtownrock

I have seen poverty
an angelic beauty
a parched skin dark boy
dried up
bones outlining carcass
he was in my hands
and the flesh broke away
using my fingers as a sifter
falling to the ground
dying slowly without a sound
amongst sun burnt zinc
and Kente colored wood sheds
I saw family members
of this unnamed poverty
tie down their heads with
black cloth sewed from
the remaining flesh
they clasped hands under their chin
praying his soon to be rotted body
would bring life
their next meal
I heard him holding his belly
before he smiled himself away
and his lips sputtered
hallelujah
when death drew near
swallowing the last bit of saliva
that circled around his teeth
to ease the pain
he cried but no tears
just death writing his
last wishes on his pupils
that stared brightly
in the hot sun
he fell asleep wide awake
his wings
taken away
when his body
finally slept
and hung on a clothes line
that now swings in the coolest breeze
in the darkest place on earth
as a reminder when
we neglect the least
amongst us.

This next image captures the essence and energy of spirit.

Ethereal Angel

“Ethereal Angel” by Randy Monteith

This poem by Rosa Cobos touches upon our own journey with our soul and breaking through the layers that binds us and keep us away from our spirit.

“Peeling away my Soul” by Rosa Cobos

Crouched against dump pillows
taking the shape of a tired body,
mind elapsing ….as a lost star.
I know…
being learnt that the Cosmos stands the order,
a dancing of the celestial creatures,
expelling powder of crystal that is burning.
I had beleived that my mind was aligned with the Heaven,
and that my own voice and shimmer..
could remain in the vacuum,
long after my tired smile had dissappeared.
Was afraid of turning the lights out,
sounds are menacing and filtering emotions,
by bowells, groaning and singing old hunger´s
then I felt my fingers, my lips…all the touching sensible
that since I was a child…had been supporting my solitude.
They were hurting and it felt as something of my own…
bitting…peeling off the borders, busy teeth ..sucking mouth,
watery slipping tongue, mixtures of textures and smells,
saliva, anxiety, how sweetly they came out…until I…
found out!!!
Am I crazy?
Self punishment..?
Self mutilating?
What is it…pushing me,
to feel myself through such a bliss?
I found…out…long….it is there….I have had.
Repetition….
soul having been skinned out,
the terrible pain, raw..bleeding sense…
and the child seeing..that like a miracle,
organic, pure invertebrate blossoming…
that skin…could grew …again..
and that recovery meant that my soul was eternal,
and then….instinctively…I put my fingers into my mouth…
and felt that they were mine….
If I should feel pain…let be mine,
if you do not feed my soul love,
let my soul be fed with mine….
own.
And the skin….keeps on growing…
again and again.
Madness…perfectly at ease.
Rosa

@ Copyright Rosa Cobos 2010 . All rights reserved

Another fabulous image of a celestial being by Shoaib:

Angels and demons

“Angels and Demons” by Shoaib

A beautiful poem by Bill Bell about prayers and fate:

“Prayers” by Bill Bell

You caught grace on your heel
where wings appeared
and all the day delivered
from your mercury muse.

You rolled up a wish
in a five dollar bill
then wondered why the numbers
didn’t add up to three or seven.

You called it fate
when your ship showed up late
and now you’re still working
because you thought it predetermined.

Yet prayers
they’re there to be answered
rolled around on the edge of your mind.
Like touching the tip of your tongue
with the lead of the pencil
worded just right
orated loudly in another cosmos
please.

He opened his eyes this morning
he squeezed his wifes hand
for things that matter
you need to ask nicely
sometimes
for prayers are the currency of miracles
paid and then gone.

This image by Ming Myaskovsky alludes to the freedom and transformation that happens when we break free from the material. It symbolizes the beauty of the soul which is a deeper beauty than the physical masks we wear everyday.

Skin Deep

“Skin Deep” by Ming Myaskovsky

This last poem is painted with surreal imagery. It takes you to a dream world where anything is possible.

“A world of Dreams” by Siki Dlanga

I realise that I’d rather live in a world of dreams
Where the song of the butterfly wings can be heard
Where rain is diamond liquid falling from the sky
Where the mellow voice of the forest laughs softly
Where the earth lifts you to touch the clouds
To touch the voice of God chuckling as it thunders
Where the rainbow covers my perfect form as a robe
I’d rather live in a world of dreams where birds sing my name
Where horses fly me through the waters
Where mountains rhythmically bow to the melody of the sun
Where plants do not go brown
And flowers never fade
Where words fly like stars
Where stars can be held
Where the galaxy is demystified
Where I am held, heard and found
Where I am understood until I understand
Where love is in my breathe
And larger than the lense of my glasses
And goes further still
I refuse to awake

(c) siki dlanga
28 may 2010

Thankyou for taking this journey with me into the timeless, spaceless world of the soul. I hope you enjoyed these powerful works as much as I did.
Tammy (aka MoonSpiral)