Loon

Loon Drawing

I sit alone in my dark room

Speak to no one ‘cept the loon

And in this lonely state of mine

I have nothing, save my mind.

I sit here waiting, pass the day

See only shadows rise then fall.

I think of nothing, only stare

For what’s the point if no one’s there.

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Colorado

zine colorado

I had a vision

I saw the world change

And it has been so long.

Upon reflection

I saw roses

Springing up from my arms.

And drawn all over,

As with a paintbrush,

I was a picture

Of a creature unborn.

Unimagined the eyes oh the eyes

Were as bright as the sum of the sols.

 Projecting your sins in my song

You pray for me, the chosen one.

Close your eyes and shield the pain

For a human I am

Here to do God’s will.

Turn now.

Add life to your hour,

And like the grass of the fields

Dress you, self, in flowering arms.

Y Colorin’ Colorado

We turned into a mother—

Earth.

Cuantos quisieran ser yo ❦

IMG_3700

This is a painting I made of Frida Kahlo. At the top it reads “Cuantos quisieran ser yo” meaning how many wish to be me.  I have struggled with issues of self worth and self esteem for many years. These were words my dad told me when I was down in the dumps. He said, “How many wish they could be you.” It’s true, not just of me necessarily but the fact is that many of us undervalue ourselves when there is nothing wrong with us; when in fact we are awesome great people with wonderful talents. This painting reflects those ideas–love yourself because you’re worth it.

Touch Me Now!

"This living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb, So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood So in my veins red life might stream again, And thou be conscience-calm’d–see here it is– I hold it towards you."  John Keats

“This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calm’d–see here it is–
I hold it towards you.”
–John Keats

This is a painting I made and in which I incorporated John Keats’ poem “This Living Hand.”