Tag Archives: Art

The Age of Rude ?

She stared through my face as if she never saw me –  stunned, I waited. Maybe there was a mistake. Maybe I was expecting too much, but the woman wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t acknowledge my presence. It was as if I did not exist.

The next day we met again, this time in an auditorium. She talked to everyone else, but not even a nodding good-morning hint at me, as if I weren’t there.  These were new family friends, not even distant relatives, no histories exchanged. No I hadn’t stolen her best dress at school, no I wasn’t an artist rival, nothing. She was a mom like me, a citizen of this same earth, but she wouldn’t look at me.

Its possible she was just tired, or thought I had nothing of use to say to her, or be. Is possible she was having a bad day, is possible she was ill, is possible she didn’t like my face, or hairstyle, or work.

But the question followed me all day and night, it stood there between my mirror and me the next morning, it sat in my toothpaste and hair brush, my shoes and sandwich.

 

This morning, I looked at images from around the world images of waiting….
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What made something as beautiful as a human heart, such a refugee

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Filed under ASIA, Disability, Discouraged, Habits, Healing, Homes, Hope, Humanities, Inspirational, Journals, LIFE, Love, Personal Reflections, Prayer, Reflections, Times, Writers

Visiblity

 

Un unutterable Peace ; speechless words : like buds and drops : like tears, or re-cycled

petals. Growing glowing, visible best in the dark. In the Dark.

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Peace

Deep within the heart of man is a Strength

he will find when he rides

the winds

speaks Words of Life

Harvests are of so many kinds

NoelJeff 24″x36″Acrylic/Oil

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Maddens me

.. . that your beauty is regarded as a vice Mother, your holiness desecrated, a million times, with out reason, without rhyme. And just a few of us  cry a little in corners , and that is the only crime, certified. A father or mother who cried. ” …where is the mind without fear ?  That  clear stream of reason has just its way, into the dreary desert sands of dead habit…’
India, can you still read this ? 
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Indian Village early morning RN water colour

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My Soul stammers

Thresholds. OIl RNoel

 

Early hour of morn – Peace,

like a sword – thru’ indifference.

 

How dumb man is when he is afraid.

My spirit shivers at the cowardice of kings,

 

and I am such a wisp of a thing, yet ,

each new dawn,

my soul stammers, then sings…

  

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Your Words

They arrive like surprise windows

to Places I have not noticed before,

what kind of God are You,

above all Powers;

Your words sift Colours

Destiny ; They revisit me

no longer castles in the sand,

but Citadels, in the Master’s Hand

Your Words..

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Cosmetics for the Soul

What do I use for creases deep within –

mid lid trauma of the mind’s eye

I shop for Glitter and lay it on thick,

layer on layer, where the spirit and soul mesh

where the heart lingers

where the soul of me, loses her ashen face, for Hidden Treasure:

cosmetics that never

lose shine,

shoes that cannot wear out

and garments of deep beauty, body,soul, spirit, mind –

oh my soul,

what a find

what a find.

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Too many good things confuse me

Gul Mohar

My neighbourhood GulMohar (Flame of the forest) just this one tree broke into bloom )

Early morning walks are somethings I must never stop,

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PiCourtesy RayCatcher

especially in May when the flowers are out and wearing Rain, like hi-fashion ear drops. People look great, smiling. I talk to strangers, they talk back. What’s this ? It is beautiful, a Peace returning. Storms wear pretty coats, gray silver lining and gentle breathing songs. Koyal. Milkmen on cycles, newspaper boys fabulous eyes fringed with lash.

I must always go on these walks. I forgave Ms Lily K for the yelling I got flunking a Maths test and how I wept all over my blue pinafore that noon after school, pigtail come loose with shock and horror….

I finally forgave her ; she looked great with the morning  light now bright in her little curls. Weird that we remember her curls now, so many dawns down the calendar since that day.

Walks should not be too long. I might bring down all my defenses, all barbed wire and put up friendly posts everywhere… uh. Just a lil walk ‘ll do. Too much heaven complicates this earthling…

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Water is still cool

full bath is out of question

just dipping my feet.

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Filed under Abuse, ASIA, Biography, Challenges, Childhood, Cultural Affairs, Culture, Dance, Design, Disability, Discouraged, Dreams, Fear

7 billion Friends

childhood

Childhood

This is for the one that met me last evening: she  may never read this:

I met a beautiful little girl with so much to give, but was afraid of human beings. What kind of fear is that ? When we are afraid of human beings?

 All I wanted for her was to have at least a good friend. How I wish that for you little one – that you would find a friend.  I’ll call her Myra.

She stared at me and returned to her window that looked into a high blank wall. That wall is her friend. The only one she trusts.

Yes, we can write all our words and do all our good works, but alone-ness is a thing we fight most, and am sitting here speechless today, trying to quiet my chaos, with reading other people’s poetry. Other languages. Anything to hide my  own blank walls. These areas where we know so so so little about the 7 billion of us. sharing the same air and water and oxygen and voting rights and goats and airplanes and nice cricket. And pavilions and parenting books and needs. Yes its tough being a parent in this decade of madness. And maybe it tougher being a kid.

 

The post below belongs to Kelly Belmonte, Chief Muse of Allninemuses a program designer, Wife, mother, blogger, published poet, and puttering gardener, she has set down roots in her “discovered country” of New England after emigrating from upstate New York over half a lifetime ago. The “nine” of All Nine is a reference to the nine sister muses of Greek mythology. These inspirational sisters represent multiple domains of creativity and intelligence, from epic poetry to science. For any vision to move from the inside of one person’s eyelids to the physical world where it can make a positive impact, it takes a collaborative effort across multiple disciplines and an openness to many sources of inspiration. 

I love your work Kelly Belmonte. I love the languages within you : inner dialects that know the human heart. Irrespective of where we are born, color, creed, this one thing we share, the need to never be alone. Eastern and Western poets, Mid east and inter-continental…

Listen, You Who Are Alone

We need, at times, to seek out friends.

Friend, one cannot either be born, or come to one’s end,
if not with another. It is good
that friendship strips
the gloom of guilt from work,
that it makes gladness not stolen,
but free.

How can you be all alone when,
at the fullness of time, all things speak at length with you,
and then the morn-star rises?

Here is the Spanish original:

Es necesario, a veces, encontrar compañía.

Amigo, no es posible ni nacer ni morir
sino con otro. Es bueno
que la amistad le quite
al trabajo esa cara de castigo
y a la alegría ese aire ilícito de robo.

¿Cómo podrás estar solo a la hora
completa, en que las cosas y tú hablan y hablan,
hasta el amanecer?
Lee todo en: Apelación al solitario – Poemas de Rosario Castellanoshttp://www.poemas-del-alma.com/rosario-castellanos-apelacion-al-solitario.htm#ixzz2RgyXau4k

 

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Invisibility does not lie..?

"We don't see things as they are, we see ...

“We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.” (Photo credit: Τϊζζ¥)

Mature

Mature (Photo credit: just.Luc)

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My ideas usually come not at my desk writing but in the midst of living. Anais Nin

And the day came when the risk to remain tight...

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. (Photo credit: legends2k)

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