March 9, 2013 Sunday Whirl #99

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Fragments III #131  30″x30″  gouache on watercolor paper

 

 

The Widow Sits by the Window
Paint, painted, painting
A world of color
A carefree spree
Insider, outsider
Who is to say
Who uses the paint

The widow sits by the window
Remembers intimate moment
Written on the heart
Held in the body
Personal landscape
A Vermeer painting

Her life a fearsome
Still life
Since he went away
The studio her reserve
The part that is her own
To use the paint
As she chooses

Prompt: paint, use, sprees, outsider, away, fearsome,
part, reserves, body, intimate, writt

Saturday 25 2012 That “Still” Place

That “Still” Place

I am in that “still” place…

Even the wind doesn’t blow

No movement in the sage

Coyolte hasn’t been by

Fox sleeps in his den

Quail is somehere else

The branches are bare

Where the Ravens

Usually hang

Upsidedown…

Beau sleeps in the sun

I am painting

It is “visual poetry”

No words form

In my mind

Or on my lips

Sand is running

Through the hour glass

Crashing to the floor

In slow motion

So quickly

The sun sinks

Into spectacular color

The day isn’t long enough

I look up and even

You are not there

*note:  This is an attempt to explain “where” I am.

January 14, 2011 Still Life

Monarch Butterflies

It was a day in November,the day I reached my Mother’s home in Texas, the Monarch Butterflies were covering my Mother’s tree in her front yard.  The butterflies were on their migration to winter in Mexico.  There were only a few blooms that had not faded.  The butterflies were drinking from the blooms, the flight is a hard one.  I do not see Monarch Butterflies often in New Mexico, only a few times, and even then I questioned myself, I do not know if Monarch Butterflies even come to New Mexico.

Still Life
No one knows
When the sands will end
The final grain will crash to the floor

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock

Ah, I am speaking of time
The length of a life
The whole day through
The moment it will end
Still Life

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock

I look out over the meadow
The reddish brown horses
The leafless trees
The blue mountains
I see forever
I see through the eyes of a child
As nothing is forever
It is time to put away this childish view

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock

For a moment I think
It isn’t fair
Again a childish thought
For who could be more fair than death
It comes to everyone
No one is overlooked

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock