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
at
what is real
an invisible hand
is
reaching beyond
hope's gray bed
bile billows out
of your pores
and oozes
a rotting smell of
despair remains
as
the invisible manifestation
speaks in a
serpent's voice
don't
listen
cruelty
will eat
your creative self
and toil, like decay
putrid n' foul
its vile
voice churns leaving
a
shredded skin of confidence
the repelling thoughts
seep like a sieve into
your gray matter
don't fall into
the acidic brine
wake
to the force of potential
listen
to
soul's whispers
like soft dandelion's wishes
like soft dandelion's wishes
close
the door
on
resistance
and dance
with the dust motes
of your day...
and wallow in the tumble
weeds
allow
and dance
with the dust motes
of your day...
and wallow in the tumble
weeds
allow
© 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
memories
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
evergreen
to
nature's gifts
Edges of childhood reside
as she bends, walks, and jumps
along the rocky shore
treasures
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
her
the bridge of her youth
fading like
the last star
before the
golden hour
she will
always
remember
© Ellen Wilson
