A Poem for Wednesday: Poetry

Life on Mars          11" x 14"                    Oil and Mixed Media on Gallery Wrapped Canvas       Available on Etsy Poetry

And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don't know how or when, no they were not voices, they were not words, nor silence, but from a street I was summoned, from the branches of night, abruptly from the others, among violent fires or returning alone, there I was without a face and it touched me. I did not know what to say, my mouth had no way with names, my eyes were blind, and something started in my soul, fever or forgotten wings, and I made my own way, deciphering that fire, and I wrote the first faint line, faint, without substance, pure nonsense, pure wisdom of someone who knows nothing, and suddenly I saw the heavens unfastened and open, planets, palpitating plantations, shadow perforated, riddled with arrows, fire and flowers, the winding night, the universe. And I, infinitesimal being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.  Pablo Neruda

A Poem for Wednesday: The Child Angel

"Just Like Heaven"

The Child Angel

Let your life come amongst them like a flame of light, my child,

unflickering and pure, and delight them into silence.

They are cruel in their greed and their envy,

their words are like hidden knives thirsting for blood.

Go and stand amidst their scowling hearts, my child,

and let your gentle eyes fall upon them like the

forgiving peace of the evening over the strife of the day.

Let them see your face, my child, and thus know the

meaning of all things, let them love you and love each other.

Come and take your seat in the bosom of the limitless, my child.

At sunrise open and raise your heart like a blossoming flower,

and at sunset bend your head and in silence

complete the worship of the day.

By: Rabindranath Tagore

Collective Subconscious

20" x 52"
(3 Canvases, 16" x 20" each)
Oil and Mixed Media on Canvas

The Swiss pshychoanalyist Carl Jung suggested that we all share a reservoir of memories--the collective unconsciousness--which consists of common images or archetypes, expressed as kind or wicked people, good or evil spirits, images in nature, etc.  These are derived from the long experience of the human race, passed down in an unconscious mode from our ancestors.  Thus we may all share the same images within our dreams or nightmares.

Do you ever dream of trees, forests or a quiet sky?  Sometimes I dream of things over and over again, only to process these dreams through a painting and then find the image in my head is gone.

A Poem for Wednesday

A Season's Awakening
16" x 16" x 1.5"
Acrylic andMixed Media on Canvas
Fine Art Giclee Print of this painting is available on my Etsy site:
http://www.etsy.com/listing/38363016/a-seasons-awakening

There is another sky
by Emily Dickinson

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!