Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Wednesday's Challenge

pastiche [pa-steesh, pah-]
1. a literary, musical, or artistic piece consisting wholly or chiefly of motifs or techniques borrowed from one or more sources.
2. an incongruous combination of materials, forms, motifs, etc. taken from different sources; hodgepodge.

See also the definition for an exhaustive set of synonyms.

Kerry challenged us to do a prompt on this word, this technique called Pastiche!   I'm excited she thought of me, when it comes to hodgepodge.  Thank you Kerry~

I found this quote, which I think really does sum up the idea, so well, at least in my opinion!

"Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work(and theft) will be authentic." -Jim Jarmusch

Lucy in the sky with diamonds
with a million eyes
sometimes is miffed and muddled
by her search of wonder
in pale hours it is lost among the dust, the fog, the dangled light
every thing will change her world
as the blue hour awakes Dali's Tangerine Rose
meditative mood lost in wonder and clouded white
awakens Lucy
she cries wondering when she will change the world

Lucy hears her whispers
in the universe
sees through night's fog
beyond the backdrop of Lunar's casted light
the romance of the world
every thing will change her world
Lucy tends a twinkling garden of silver bells and cockleshells
and sees the snail's silver trail of thin light
move time's course
every thing going to change her world
hidden secrets blanketed in indigo dreams
when red sun's delight aligns 
and cascaded light awakens her sister
Lucy knows the
it changes everything
but so won't hers
String's theories song
waiting for the sunbird to arrive daily
spreading  her tail feathers and the perfect color
of day's dance spirals forth
Lucy knows everything will change her world
she waits for her chance to paint with her portrait
with kaleidoscope eyes
 the vapors of cataracts lift
drifting the wet pools of color into 
a river of sight
everything is going to change her world
like a million eyes
seeing her dreams
you will thank the Universe
She paints after a temper tantrum
her art makes a 

random appearance, it soothes you
her painting
make you smile
and thank the Universe
every thing is going to change her world
when she shares
you'll see...

 Photo: Patrick Emerson

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

The Dickens with dickens


Parking lot drama
fighting over space
Hurry scurry through the door
they run at a mad pace
holiday sales, blue light specials
Black Friday,
discounted red coupons
Marketed by color
we're in the red
we want the black
and Santa wears those
red light, green light
more like yellow
why, why
 rush in, race to find
run to check out
 near the exit
let's go, let's move and 
at the final 
 electronic doors
they turn into rusty robots
their butts stick out, arms
lean forward, they tilt
they text and stop right after they
get out of the last door.
like a funeral 
moving slow, then stop
traffic jam 
hey what's the hold up
the funeral was back at the register
let's move
move along
there is nothing to see

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Over in the Garden with Margaret

 Doll by Emma Whitlock

Over in the garden, Margaret shared some amazing talent with us.  Dolls made by her daughter and her fellow classmates~

I chose Emma Whitlock's doll because it reminded me of my dance with self doubt. The more I share myself as an artist, the more I dance with the ups n' downs of my authentic voice, my confidence and my muse.  The dream catcher reminded me of the nightmare I feel during the day, as the dark shadows of doubt linger, on my artistic journey. 

Dark thoughts feed
 like wretched bacteria
lingering in 
night's shadows
feeding on
one's soul
 sucking and tearing
what is real
an invisible hand
reaching beyond
hope's gray bed

bile billows out 
of your pores
and oozes
a rotting smell of
despair remains 
the invisible manifestation
speaks in a
serpent's voice 

 will eat
your creative self
and toil, like decay
putrid n' foul
its vile
voice churns leaving 
shredded skin of confidence
the repelling thoughts
seep like a sieve into
your gray matter
don't fall into 
the acidic brine
 to the force of potential

 soul's whispers
like soft dandelion's wishes
the door
and dance
with the dust motes
of your day...
and wallow in the tumble
Your Muse
in the blue hour
cast in the net of your

© Ellen Wilson

 Doll by Chelsea Bednar

Her soul gives birth to day, 
as her translucent
 copper hair cascades
like reflected ribbons
in a tidal pool of

Turquoise dreams of the sea
wave to her
washing her whole
as the ebb n' flow of
her heart
lives along
the piney pitch forest

Her heart 
steadfast and true
 nature's gifts

Edges of childhood reside
as she bends, walks, and jumps
along the rocky shore
among the stars
winking in their indigo blanket to
 their cousins outlining their
sandy, salty bed 

Fingers extend to
 reach n' touch
the blue thoughts
that surface
they surround her
and comfort 
the bridge of her youth
fading like
the last star
before the
 golden hour
she will 

 © Ellen Wilson


Friday, November 2, 2012

Liar, Sweet Desire!

Fireblossom asked us to write a poem about our inner opposite.   I fear there is a bit of truth, in my liar, liar poem....can you figure out what I might be lying about ;D

I'm a sugar whore
             Yup that's me
I loooove the white granulated legal crack
                                           it rocks my world
It rules
I crave
                                            its pure magic
it is my
I couldn't 
do that

I sure
do love to eat
they will 
                                        kill me
                                          magic of
brown sugar's 
so sweet
if I 
well,is it
bad to be good
or is it good to be
                                                                                              sinful smile
as I pop some 
of the magic crystals
my brain so
like Pop Rocks
My mood is climbing
scaling the
path to the
sugar mountain high
Halloween haunts
me every
the sugar fairies dance
teasing n' taunting
those colorful bitches
in their rainbow Skittle world
Discover a Rainbow
f#*^k  U
long for the buttery
of toffee, 
with its nutty
chocolate heaven
one nibble 
 I swoon...
to the moon
I must ride
for one 
amazing bite....
sugar sucks
the life out of me
it is
1380 bs=bull shit not
 blood sugar



Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Hallow's Edge

Over in the Garden, it is a bit spooky....beware of orbs and howling tonight!  Watch your step, as you journey out n' about on this Hallowed evening...

Beware of my neighbor Mrs. Kravitz.  She is a bit ill, she has turned a bit green, lol.

Some of us will transform tonight, by the light of the Amber Moon....beware some of your friends may be fiends....

 Are you here for a Trick or a Treat?!   ;D this photo, just for YOU!  

Trick a magic spell...not sure what the results will be...muWHhahaha....

Inky dark curls
her sea green eyes
she knows
twilight keeps
eager vines climb
the Magnolia tree
reaching outward towards the blush of 
a day's surrender
passions eye 
reflects on the Silver Lake
listen you
can hear secret wings
high on the Crescent hill
distilled dreams
alter flames
of heart's poison 
His spirit
that wanders till the dawn hath cross'd
the dolorous dark, or Earth hath wound
He isn't mine
she chants
I'll beguile him 
( this year)
in the sweet idle hours
I light the red taper
annointed with
Rose oil
as the dried sage burns
my rustic muse
I transform
my cloak of Indigo kisses reaches
his outline in the faint, warm fog
Rose thorn carves his name in
the pool of melted rouge
see him
in the element of fire

I used the poem Low Barometer by Robert Bridges

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Sunday Mini Challenge

Over in the Garden, Kerry prompted us with a  Melancholia type poem.  It relies on a syllable count and rhyme scheme. 

For example:

Silently without my window,  (a)   8 syllables
Tapping gently at the pane,  (b)   7 syllables 
Falls the rain.  (b)   3 syllables
Through the trees sighs the breeze (Internal rhyme c / c) 6 syllables
Like a soul in pain.  (b)   5 syllables
Here alone I sit and weep;  (d)   7 syllables
Thought hath banished sleep.  (d)   5 syllables

This form was developed by Paul Laurence Dunbar.

© Isadora Gruye

Izy I love this photo!   So fits the mood of the season :D

Mournful cries echo in the damp chill 
silhouette outlines dark mood  
I can't speak
burning imprint, I squint  
shoulder squeeze, I gasp
gray ghost materializes
horrified I run 

eye wide awake I feel dead
a freezing chill in my bones
madness wears
 a gray face, in its place
thick black clouds hang low
A murder here, not long ago
faint whispers took my life 

(Mrs. White did it, in the dining room with a knife)
She killed Mr. Body and Prof. Plum and left
Miss Scarlett bleeding in the Library
She had been reading "Gone With The Wind"
Colonial Mustard never had a chance,
off of the Kitchen he was hung out to dry.
Mr. Green was attacked by the Venus Fly Trap,
 in the Conservatory!
Mrs. Peacock left the roost, crazy as a cuckoo
and was never heard from again.