The human course, it often baffles –
the politics, ego, discord –
who wants the giveaways of maniacs?
No, they can keep their judgement raffles.
But if something makes our bellies churn
the core, an apple rotten,
then curious it makes our eye
perhaps, it’s then, we learn.
painting by CD-W
This is Mary Jane.
She is a paper doll created by Milton Bradley Co. in the 1950’s.
This is me, created by Mom and Dad in the 1950’s.
This is Paper Doll Me created by, well, me a few days ago.
Why a paper doll? Why here? Why now?
So, this isn’t my brain on drugs. This is my brain “memory sparking”. I think I’ll call her “Paper Doll Sparky”. Maybe “P.D. Sparky” for short. Or “Sparky” for shorter.
I can tell by looking at her that me, I mean Sparky, and Mary Jane wouldn’t have had a lot in common back then. Not that you should judge someone by appearance but she looks like Miss Goody Two-Shoes. I bet she followed all the rules and never once tried to do something new, challenging or creative.
Too bad, so sad.
I bet she never once hid in a gutter, yelled at her mother, or grew to get caught by the principal for smoking cigarettes in the girls bathroom in middle school (we called it Junior High back then).
In fact, she looks just like Lori, the tattle tale girl who ratted me out for lying to my mother when I was five.
So, I stole, I mean borrowed, some of Mary Jane’s clothes. They are mine now and Sparky can wear them for better purposes than to have mundane tea parties with preppy little girls who never climb trees or scrape their knees.
But don’t let the clothes fool you. Wearing one of Mary Jane’s prim and proper dresses won’t take the girl out of her true skin. (Besides, she’s made out of cardboard).
She’s packing up now, getting ready to see what kind of troubles her memories will stir up. As Dad used to say, “Time to separate the sheep from the goats.”
You comin’?
To be continued …
Sometimes,
between the wall that divides us,
grows a single rose.
The conditions, in its favor
The moment of magic, short-lived
But when it happens, we all stop
to look
to admire
to take pictures for safe-keeping that will always be a reminder –
There might not always be a pot of gold, but if you remember to look,
there will always be something that will blush for our benefit.
via Blush
I wait for you to come out of your shell
for you to incubate and percolate
into your perfect self
The world is not always a scary place
Concentrate
Communicate
Fear will dissipate
You can become the Goddess of Love
Just open your gate
Make this your world to punctuate
And we will celebrate your glory.
image credit
via Incubate
In every fabric of my soul
where fibers weave and thread
where stitching seems quite flawless
there are stains from when I bled
Ah, but isn’t it quite marvelous
to know this quilt has tracked
all my strains and struggles
yet I still remain intact.
Yes, I still remain intact.
— by C. Dennis-Willingham
photo image – quilt of Maya Angelou made by Faith Ringgold
via Fabric
I decided to look up one of my favorite words along with my favorite poet. Here’s what I got:
What? Emily Dickinson hasn’t posted anything within 14 days??
And then I thought of how we rekindle our own imaginations – through the eyes of children, of course.
Then, I thought of Shel Silverstein.
But this is my all-time favorite:
And, by the way – Just because Emily hasn’t posted in a while doesn’t mean she’s not alive.
see more here
via Imagination
If out of nowhere you smell chicken soup
do you conjure up the memory of someone trying to make you feel better?
If you lay on the grass,
do you see your childhood friends beside you, giggling as a puppy licks your toes?
If you hear the coo of the mourning dove
are you transported back into the bed at your grandparent’s house laying peacefully under the quilted covers?
When you see a child squeal with happiness
are you remembering unwrapping your stuffed purple and pink cow that special Christmas Eve?
Memories are precious
Our goal is to have many more good ones than bad.
via Conjure
image from Pixabay
I love works of art. Possibly because I’m not very good at it.
Yes, I know the basics but, for some reason, I never seem to buy the right canvas. (wink)
We all know of Vermeer’s “Girl with the Pearl Earring.” But today, I discovered one of his works that I don’t remember seeing before and,
Wowzer!
I insist that you meet Vermeer’s “The Girl with the Red Hat” –
the hat, fuzzy and soft enough to feel
the lighting, impeccable
the cloak, smooth and silky beneath your fingers
her moist lips ready to speak
her eyes searching to know you.
I won’t give up painting on canvas but, for now, I’ll stick to painting words.
image source
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 