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
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
 close
the door
on 
resistance
and dance
with the dust motes
of your day...
and wallow in the tumble
weeds
allow  
Your Muse
to
play
in the blue hour
those
echoes
cast in the net of your
everyday! 



© 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


 





Friday, November 2, 2012

Liar, Liar....my 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
                                                                                         me...
I crave
                                            its pure magic
it is my
                         meth
I
think 
about 
I couldn't 
do that
cook
                                        chemicals

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