with a splash of color to make it unique.
Source: Various artists
This is the place where I go to post unique and pretty things that interest me, original dark poetry, earth-centered & planetary information and anything that happens to strike my fancy.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Splash!
Oh for the love of monochrome and black & white photography....
with a splash of color to make it unique.
Source: Various artists
with a splash of color to make it unique.
Source: Various artists
Friday, March 8, 2013
Lately I have noticed that when I get home from work, and on weekends, when I used to be so inspired and enthused to be creative in any sense of the word - whether it be cooking or baking, making an art project, decorating, painting or making jewelry - I can't seem to pull myself out of this horrible funk. I just sit around watching TV or playing on the computer.
I seem to have lost interest in everything that I used to find joy. And, it's hard not to feel resentful having to be the one who does all of the cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc., especially after being told that work would be shared. I get lazier and lazier and seem to care less and less.... O, the winter blues!
I am hopeful that Spring will bring the inspired feelings back to me, as there is so much that I want to do! I have a mountain of cool textured paper that I want to make greeting cards, and a stock pile of gorgeous beads just waiting to be made into jewelry...not to mention the rooms that I want to improve and the work that needs to be finished - like painting the stairs and putting down new floors in the dining room and kitchen.
I can't wait to open all the doors and windows and give this place a good airing out - wash the walls and drapes and windows....Ugh.
Time.... it's all about time. And it's about time I get myself moving. I am hopeful that by simply writing out my thoughts it will be the seed that germinates the inspiration.
I seem to have lost interest in everything that I used to find joy. And, it's hard not to feel resentful having to be the one who does all of the cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc., especially after being told that work would be shared. I get lazier and lazier and seem to care less and less.... O, the winter blues!
I am hopeful that Spring will bring the inspired feelings back to me, as there is so much that I want to do! I have a mountain of cool textured paper that I want to make greeting cards, and a stock pile of gorgeous beads just waiting to be made into jewelry...not to mention the rooms that I want to improve and the work that needs to be finished - like painting the stairs and putting down new floors in the dining room and kitchen.
I can't wait to open all the doors and windows and give this place a good airing out - wash the walls and drapes and windows....Ugh.
Time.... it's all about time. And it's about time I get myself moving. I am hopeful that by simply writing out my thoughts it will be the seed that germinates the inspiration.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Framed Heart
It's hidden in disguise
Words that tricked down my spine
Building tension
I am lost in the ascension
Hear my throaty cries.
Your greased hand outstretched,
I reach to clasp it
But fall back into the abyss.
Oblivious in the darkness,
You destroyed the obvious
Everything,
Everything.
And yet, I keep it chained,
Deep beneath the glass pane
It beats a distant tapping,
A faint and steady rapping,
Resting in leaden symmetry
Next to rosy potpourri.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
A Blessed Imbloc to You
Imbloc ~ Spring Equinox, 2013
Rosemary, Frankincense, Myrrh, Cinnamon
Corn Doll, Besom/Broom, Spring Flowers
Red, Orange, White
Imbloc, also known as Brigid's (Bridhid, Bridget) Day is one of the 4 Celtic Fire Festivals or Holidays. It is the time of year when the first signs of Spring are celebrated as the energy of the [three-fold)Goddess changes from Crone to Maiden.
On this special day, as we dedicate honor to the Rebirth of Sun and Spring, we also commemorate the Celtic Goddess Brigid, who is the Triple Goddess ruling the arts, healing and craft, ultimately making today a very good day to practice making something by hand and being creative. Burning red, orange, yellow or white candles today will purify your home, and be a reminder of this Sun-centered holiday.
Imbolc is about birth and rebirth, as the Goddess rests after giving birth to the God, where symbolically, the longer days awaken Her as the young God's energy is a symbol of extending hours of light. From the warmth of the sun, the Earth begins to absorb the warmth and plants and seeds begin to appear.
"My thanks for what
You have let me see.
I know my direction is now up to me.
I will blaze this path. Blessed be."
.
Rosemary, Frankincense, Myrrh, Cinnamon
Corn Doll, Besom/Broom, Spring Flowers
Red, Orange, White
Imbloc, also known as Brigid's (Bridhid, Bridget) Day is one of the 4 Celtic Fire Festivals or Holidays. It is the time of year when the first signs of Spring are celebrated as the energy of the [three-fold)Goddess changes from Crone to Maiden.
On this special day, as we dedicate honor to the Rebirth of Sun and Spring, we also commemorate the Celtic Goddess Brigid, who is the Triple Goddess ruling the arts, healing and craft, ultimately making today a very good day to practice making something by hand and being creative. Burning red, orange, yellow or white candles today will purify your home, and be a reminder of this Sun-centered holiday.
Imbolc is about birth and rebirth, as the Goddess rests after giving birth to the God, where symbolically, the longer days awaken Her as the young God's energy is a symbol of extending hours of light. From the warmth of the sun, the Earth begins to absorb the warmth and plants and seeds begin to appear.
You have let me see.
I know my direction is now up to me.
I will blaze this path. Blessed be."
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Mermaid Tears.....
"Sea Glass" is originally man-made broken glass shards which have in one way or another found its way onto the beaches of lakes or the ocean. Basically "sea glass" is discarded trash such as bottles or glassware, jars, plates and pottery or china, or perhaps it may be from ships that have gone down to sea, and it is found around the world. Shards of porcelain doll pieces are common in certain areas.
It transforms itself into the finished product - a frosty or perfectly polished translucent gem - by years of being tumbled by the motion of waves through sand and pebbles. The sand and pebbles act like natural polishers, and over years it ends up on our beaches.
Those who "hunt" for sea glass know the joy that results when finding a particular color to one's own taste. It is a hobby - whether you are a casual or serious collector - that can be both relaxing and rewarding. The best time for hunting would be at low tide, and especially at low tide after a good storm, as the shore has been "stirred up", which means it will release glass that may have otherwise been buried or stuck in the sand. And, call me sentimental, but it seems to me, every hunt is a special memory.
Many creative people and artists make jewelry, mosaics, and countless other crafts from these treasures from the sea!
Other names for Sea Glass are mermaid tears, beach glass, witch glass or ocean glass.
It transforms itself into the finished product - a frosty or perfectly polished translucent gem - by years of being tumbled by the motion of waves through sand and pebbles. The sand and pebbles act like natural polishers, and over years it ends up on our beaches.
Those who "hunt" for sea glass know the joy that results when finding a particular color to one's own taste. It is a hobby - whether you are a casual or serious collector - that can be both relaxing and rewarding. The best time for hunting would be at low tide, and especially at low tide after a good storm, as the shore has been "stirred up", which means it will release glass that may have otherwise been buried or stuck in the sand. And, call me sentimental, but it seems to me, every hunt is a special memory.
Many creative people and artists make jewelry, mosaics, and countless other crafts from these treasures from the sea!
Other names for Sea Glass are mermaid tears, beach glass, witch glass or ocean glass.
Friendship Poem
Whenever the wind is right.
They blow on the winds of the breeze by day,
And they ride on the gales by night.
Your seeds blow into my garden, Friend,
And nestle among my flowers,
In the soft sweet soil of my garden plot
They wait for the sun and the showers.
Whatever you grow in your garden, Friend,
If flower, or ugly weed,
The fall will come and the wind will blow
And over will come your seed.
Your life is a garden by mine, dear Friend,
And planted with living deeds;
So ever and over the wall they blow:
Will you give me flowers-- or weeds?
Author Unknown
Saturday, January 26, 2013
The Auld Tree Grove
Original short story: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Had it been weeks, or now months that I remained on this archaic plain, so utterly alone? I had not eaten nor slept, for in this unnatural state, my body did not seek basic life sustaining needs. I was suddenly aware that my attire had become deeply soiled and the cloak over the dress that I wore felt like heavy lead as it had dragged behind me through this muddy terrain, here, suspended between life and death. As I concluded the observation of the state of my clothing, I realized that I had wandered to the edge of a cliff which overlooked a colossal valley and upon which I spied a grove of lofty trees. There was a memory in the back of my mind, if only I could summon my thoughts to retrace time.
Slowly, I remembered that it had begun with repeated dreams in which I would reach my outstretched hand across mountains and a great body of water to grasp hold of a his hand, albeit, I could never quite reach it. I knew that I innately loved him like no other. He was there, so real - in my dreams - steeped in mystery like a vaporous, sultry lover. I felt him organically, as if he was bath of hedonistic pleasure just waiting for me to dive in. In the far distance of the dream, I recall the demonic laughter he expelled as if he were all alone, inside of his own head. The dream would not allow me to penetrate his conscious, but I was left with absolute and unquestionable trust. His words were milky aphrodisiacs to my mind telling me things that I had never heard before. O, could he not feel my longing for him, regardless of distance, space or time? But who was this stranger? My head ached and I reeled as I attempted to recall his presence.
Yes, This dream eventually became reality shortly after I had written to a curator of a company called "A Conception Awakened". The company published poetry, musical endeavors, and fine art. I wrote to the curator to inquire about purchasing a poem that I had read in one of the company's books. He cordially returned my correspondence, providing me with the requested material and inquired about my interests in the arts. Thus began a correspondence which quickly escalated into the romantic notion that we should someday meet. We exchanged photographs and since my life style afforded me the luxury of travel, and I was quite free, I decided to plan the trip. I arranged this tryst surreptitiously. No one knew that I was traveling so far away. No one would question my motives, no one would consider such absurdity from a woman! No, this was one trip I would make alone. Was I insane? Had my faculties left me? Never before had I acted out in such a fashion; And yet, I could not stop. I had to meet him in the flesh, longing for him to take me places I could not consider without blushing.
And so, I secretly purchased a train ticket and began my journey across the mountains. Through our correspondence, it was previously arranged that he would meet me at the station. Upon arrival, I immediately spied him, holding a large bouquet of roses, my heartbeat accelerating. I could not withhold the smile that I had concealed during my journey. We embraced somewhat awkwardly, as the veil had now been cast aside and the mystery of one another was revealed. We chatted cautiously and politely for a short time as we strolled to a tavern to sup. Once inside the tavern, we sat side by side on a long, wooden bench next to hired musicians who began to play for the crowd's entertainment. We sipped a fine vintage wine and exchanged several kisses. I shall admit right now that I was quite forward with this gentleman, though he did not seem to mind. I do remember that I could sense his anxiety but could not stop the feelings that I had been suppressing for so long. Part of me wondered if my kisses were like burning embers to his lips, where he must recoil from blistering pain or from passion? All of these thoughts raced through my head, but after some time and more wine, we both began to relax and enjoy one another. We listened to music and discussed taking a midnight stroll. There was a beautiful tree grove to which he wanted to bring me.
We lazily departed the tavern and strolled toward the antiquated inn where he had arranged our covert accommodations. Night was descending upon the city and the warm summer air was illuminated by sweet scents of a variety of wild flowers. When we arrived at the room, he lit lovely white candles and poured a hot bath that was perfumed with a heady floral scent which filled the room. I boldly undressed and eased my tired body into the fragrant water and shortly thereafter he joined me in the sudsy tub. My thoughts could not quell the anticipation of him. Still, I could not penetrate his enshrouded mystery, he seemed almost supernatural and that only amplified my desire.
As we left the bath, we naturally embraced and he kissed me gently and sweetly on the mouth as he laid me across the bed, placing a record on the Victrola. He then proceeded to gently tie a band of silken black lace around my eyes, leaving me exposed and wanting. His expert hands and mouth endeavored to make love to me by caressing the most secret places of my body with his warm and knowing kisses. It did not take long for my natural reactions to occur (and occur again). So sweet was his lovemaking that I still wanted him until I was raw and bleeding, though I could never tell him so. Eventually, after resting, we dressed to take the walk in the woods to the Auld Tree Grove.
The night air was thick with mist and the waxing moon was opaque through the branches of trees and the low lying wisps of clouds. We walked along a grassy path where we viewed a stone staircase which ascended onto grassy grounds that apparently once held a domestic dwelling of some type. At the top of the stairs were two pillars raising up from the earth like ancient warriors guarding the palace.
On the opposite side of the path was another staircase that descended into blackness. He indicated that the stairs led to the tree grove, but one could not see in the darkness until we made our way to the bottom. He held my hand as we began our descent through a large, ornate wrought-iron gate. He quietly whispered to me to move carefully. Cautiously we moved down the stone steps when I suddenly became aware of gravity of the atmosphere. The air seemed to be made of wet concrete and the moon was obscured by shadow and haze. A sudden yet fleeting terror annihilated my entire being, as the thought raced through my mind that I did not know this man! No sooner than this thought occurred to me, than a violent, putrid wave of decaying remains, of perhaps some small creature, assaulted my nostrils and thankfully dissipated as we moved forward.
We had finally reached the bottom of the great, granite steps and very slowly, my eyes adjusted to the midnight blackness. I was instantly awestruck as I looked skyward into the massive, towering canopy of trees which formed a long natural corridor. It was hauntingly beautiful and transcendent. Fireflies danced throughout the underbrush and in the dewy grass below our feet. He was smiling broadly and motioned me forward where I was surprised to see a long marble slab standing alone before us. Not a whisper did he emit as he motioned me toward the table, it was then I spied the silver glint of naked steel beneath his velvet cloak. Fear consumed me only momentarily while I deliberately laid myself upon on the cold stone. He produced a single red rose which he stole from beneath the folds of his cloak and placed it in my hands, as he crossed my arms over my breasts. One long, sweet kiss from his lips he fixed upon mine, until he gasped in what seemed like conclusive sorrow. It was not difficult to die, as I experienced only momentary pain as the dagger pierced my flesh. The last thing I felt was the sticky hot warmth of my own deliciously hot blood flowing over my cold flesh. A certain peace crept through me. I then heard his laughter; which paralyzed me forever whilst the trees stood weeping. ~ 7/14/08
Had it been weeks, or now months that I remained on this archaic plain, so utterly alone? I had not eaten nor slept, for in this unnatural state, my body did not seek basic life sustaining needs. I was suddenly aware that my attire had become deeply soiled and the cloak over the dress that I wore felt like heavy lead as it had dragged behind me through this muddy terrain, here, suspended between life and death. As I concluded the observation of the state of my clothing, I realized that I had wandered to the edge of a cliff which overlooked a colossal valley and upon which I spied a grove of lofty trees. There was a memory in the back of my mind, if only I could summon my thoughts to retrace time.
Slowly, I remembered that it had begun with repeated dreams in which I would reach my outstretched hand across mountains and a great body of water to grasp hold of a his hand, albeit, I could never quite reach it. I knew that I innately loved him like no other. He was there, so real - in my dreams - steeped in mystery like a vaporous, sultry lover. I felt him organically, as if he was bath of hedonistic pleasure just waiting for me to dive in. In the far distance of the dream, I recall the demonic laughter he expelled as if he were all alone, inside of his own head. The dream would not allow me to penetrate his conscious, but I was left with absolute and unquestionable trust. His words were milky aphrodisiacs to my mind telling me things that I had never heard before. O, could he not feel my longing for him, regardless of distance, space or time? But who was this stranger? My head ached and I reeled as I attempted to recall his presence.
Yes, This dream eventually became reality shortly after I had written to a curator of a company called "A Conception Awakened". The company published poetry, musical endeavors, and fine art. I wrote to the curator to inquire about purchasing a poem that I had read in one of the company's books. He cordially returned my correspondence, providing me with the requested material and inquired about my interests in the arts. Thus began a correspondence which quickly escalated into the romantic notion that we should someday meet. We exchanged photographs and since my life style afforded me the luxury of travel, and I was quite free, I decided to plan the trip. I arranged this tryst surreptitiously. No one knew that I was traveling so far away. No one would question my motives, no one would consider such absurdity from a woman! No, this was one trip I would make alone. Was I insane? Had my faculties left me? Never before had I acted out in such a fashion; And yet, I could not stop. I had to meet him in the flesh, longing for him to take me places I could not consider without blushing.
And so, I secretly purchased a train ticket and began my journey across the mountains. Through our correspondence, it was previously arranged that he would meet me at the station. Upon arrival, I immediately spied him, holding a large bouquet of roses, my heartbeat accelerating. I could not withhold the smile that I had concealed during my journey. We embraced somewhat awkwardly, as the veil had now been cast aside and the mystery of one another was revealed. We chatted cautiously and politely for a short time as we strolled to a tavern to sup. Once inside the tavern, we sat side by side on a long, wooden bench next to hired musicians who began to play for the crowd's entertainment. We sipped a fine vintage wine and exchanged several kisses. I shall admit right now that I was quite forward with this gentleman, though he did not seem to mind. I do remember that I could sense his anxiety but could not stop the feelings that I had been suppressing for so long. Part of me wondered if my kisses were like burning embers to his lips, where he must recoil from blistering pain or from passion? All of these thoughts raced through my head, but after some time and more wine, we both began to relax and enjoy one another. We listened to music and discussed taking a midnight stroll. There was a beautiful tree grove to which he wanted to bring me.
We lazily departed the tavern and strolled toward the antiquated inn where he had arranged our covert accommodations. Night was descending upon the city and the warm summer air was illuminated by sweet scents of a variety of wild flowers. When we arrived at the room, he lit lovely white candles and poured a hot bath that was perfumed with a heady floral scent which filled the room. I boldly undressed and eased my tired body into the fragrant water and shortly thereafter he joined me in the sudsy tub. My thoughts could not quell the anticipation of him. Still, I could not penetrate his enshrouded mystery, he seemed almost supernatural and that only amplified my desire.
As we left the bath, we naturally embraced and he kissed me gently and sweetly on the mouth as he laid me across the bed, placing a record on the Victrola. He then proceeded to gently tie a band of silken black lace around my eyes, leaving me exposed and wanting. His expert hands and mouth endeavored to make love to me by caressing the most secret places of my body with his warm and knowing kisses. It did not take long for my natural reactions to occur (and occur again). So sweet was his lovemaking that I still wanted him until I was raw and bleeding, though I could never tell him so. Eventually, after resting, we dressed to take the walk in the woods to the Auld Tree Grove.
The night air was thick with mist and the waxing moon was opaque through the branches of trees and the low lying wisps of clouds. We walked along a grassy path where we viewed a stone staircase which ascended onto grassy grounds that apparently once held a domestic dwelling of some type. At the top of the stairs were two pillars raising up from the earth like ancient warriors guarding the palace.
On the opposite side of the path was another staircase that descended into blackness. He indicated that the stairs led to the tree grove, but one could not see in the darkness until we made our way to the bottom. He held my hand as we began our descent through a large, ornate wrought-iron gate. He quietly whispered to me to move carefully. Cautiously we moved down the stone steps when I suddenly became aware of gravity of the atmosphere. The air seemed to be made of wet concrete and the moon was obscured by shadow and haze. A sudden yet fleeting terror annihilated my entire being, as the thought raced through my mind that I did not know this man! No sooner than this thought occurred to me, than a violent, putrid wave of decaying remains, of perhaps some small creature, assaulted my nostrils and thankfully dissipated as we moved forward.
We had finally reached the bottom of the great, granite steps and very slowly, my eyes adjusted to the midnight blackness. I was instantly awestruck as I looked skyward into the massive, towering canopy of trees which formed a long natural corridor. It was hauntingly beautiful and transcendent. Fireflies danced throughout the underbrush and in the dewy grass below our feet. He was smiling broadly and motioned me forward where I was surprised to see a long marble slab standing alone before us. Not a whisper did he emit as he motioned me toward the table, it was then I spied the silver glint of naked steel beneath his velvet cloak. Fear consumed me only momentarily while I deliberately laid myself upon on the cold stone. He produced a single red rose which he stole from beneath the folds of his cloak and placed it in my hands, as he crossed my arms over my breasts. One long, sweet kiss from his lips he fixed upon mine, until he gasped in what seemed like conclusive sorrow. It was not difficult to die, as I experienced only momentary pain as the dagger pierced my flesh. The last thing I felt was the sticky hot warmth of my own deliciously hot blood flowing over my cold flesh. A certain peace crept through me. I then heard his laughter; which paralyzed me forever whilst the trees stood weeping. ~ 7/14/08
Friday, January 25, 2013
Heavenly Scents
I keep the home fires burning with my favorite candle scents from Yankee Candle. I bought my last Yankee Candle (Sage and Citrus) at the Original Vermont Store in Poultney, Vermont, which now is the building that just happens to be my childhood home! I am highlighting my two favorites.
Blueberry...Symbolism: Protection.
Dream Theory: "To dream of blueberries means your youth and the desire to recapture aspects of your youth. It is a symbol of eternity and optimism of the future. Alternatively, it may depict your depressed mood and sadden state of mind."
Sage...Symbolism: Immortality, Longevity, Wisdom, Protection, Wishes
Dream Theory: "If you see sage means for you to get more in touch with your spirituality. If you are burning sage suggest you might need to rid yourself of bad energy’s."
Grapefruit...Dream Theory: "...forecasts a period of confusion due to a conflict between your business and love life; listen to advice but rely on your own intuition to resolve the matter."
Lemons...Symbolism: Longevity, Purification, Love, Friendship. Dream Theory: "Not a particularly auspicious omen, but its portent is modified by the action in your dream. If the lemon was sucked, it portends social difficulties or embarrassment; if it was being squeezed, it indicates upcoming money problems and a need for economy; however, to dream of making, serving, or drinking lemonade predicts an increase in personal popularity."
Oranges...Symbolism: Love, Divination, Luck, Money Dream Theory: "To see them growing or boxed for shipment is a forecast of a slow but steady improvement in your circumstances; to eat them or drink the juice predicts a short but unforgettable love affair; and orange blossoms, as expected, signify news of a wedding."
Citrus... (General) Dream Theory: "Dreaming of citrus means combating illness or trouble. May represent your abilities, faith, morals and good deeds."
Blueberry...Symbolism: Protection.
Dream Theory: "To dream of blueberries means your youth and the desire to recapture aspects of your youth. It is a symbol of eternity and optimism of the future. Alternatively, it may depict your depressed mood and sadden state of mind."
Sage...Symbolism: Immortality, Longevity, Wisdom, Protection, Wishes
Dream Theory: "If you see sage means for you to get more in touch with your spirituality. If you are burning sage suggest you might need to rid yourself of bad energy’s."
Grapefruit...Dream Theory: "...forecasts a period of confusion due to a conflict between your business and love life; listen to advice but rely on your own intuition to resolve the matter."
Lemons...Symbolism: Longevity, Purification, Love, Friendship. Dream Theory: "Not a particularly auspicious omen, but its portent is modified by the action in your dream. If the lemon was sucked, it portends social difficulties or embarrassment; if it was being squeezed, it indicates upcoming money problems and a need for economy; however, to dream of making, serving, or drinking lemonade predicts an increase in personal popularity."
Oranges...Symbolism: Love, Divination, Luck, Money Dream Theory: "To see them growing or boxed for shipment is a forecast of a slow but steady improvement in your circumstances; to eat them or drink the juice predicts a short but unforgettable love affair; and orange blossoms, as expected, signify news of a wedding."
Citrus... (General) Dream Theory: "Dreaming of citrus means combating illness or trouble. May represent your abilities, faith, morals and good deeds."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)