ode to the magnificent night visitor...

oh, magnificent one that you are
come to me under the cloak of darkness
glide your way gently into my bed
cover my body with your ethereal blanket
lay beside me holding me tenderly
stroke my hair caress my heart
languish with me till to sleep I fall and then
slide your way into my dreams

come to me tonight i do pray

for who knows when and where

we may meet again

oh, magnificent one that you are
coming to me from heaven afar
leaving your home in the distant stars
 
for just the sight of you I do swoon
my dear magnificent
beautiful

blue moon

the question...

the answer, my friend, 

is blowin' in the wind...

brownskin woman...

brownskin woman
brownskin woman
you my kin?
dancin’ round in mortal sin
swirlin’ to the strings of a mando’lin
rustlin’ skirts blowin’ in tha wind
hair put up with those fancy pins
arms flyin’ high from tha spirit within
men settin’ round swiggin’ on gin
bettin’ now on who’s gonna win
don’t care when the night’s gonna end
all gonna stay at the caravan inn
so ya’ll come on- let the fun begin
brownskin woman
brownskin woman
you my kin?

the canvases of my recent days...

the past few weeks while i have been away from all of you, aside from the usual holiday things, i have been doing a little painting - something which i'd not done for way too long - in any event, these photos [disclaimer:  photos taken with a cell phone in poor lighting] represent a bit of my recent days:

canvas set up and preliminary sketch on canvas
- background begun

 

background done

 

complete and signed

 

48"x48"

on canvas

heather's magnolia

painting on foyer floor against wall in owner's home -

left side not visible in photo

initially, i had intended to use acrylic paints but decided to match colors with those of the home's interior - so i had this gathered up a dozen or so glass jars and had heather's husband give me leftover house paint which i then used for the painting -

* * * * * * * * *

this painting was done for lisa's home and i did the same thing with the paints, grabbing leftover interior house paints with which to do her abstract - i don't yet have a photo of this painting in it's home environment so these shots will have to suffice for now -

complete and drying on easel

48"x60"

on canvas

lisa's abstract 

complete and signed

GREETINGS TO YOU - FROM THE UNIVERSE

for those who have not seen this at my travel journal blog, this is a little "NOTE FROM THE UNIVERSE" that i received yesterday from theuniverse@tut.com and one which i think rightfully belongs to us all, individually and collectively - and so, here is my message to you forwarded by way of THE UNIVERSE:

If it's not yet obvious to you, the real reason for this, and all seasons, is you.  A more perfect child of the Universe has never lived. Until now, only celebrations cloaked in myth and mystery could hint at your divine heritage and sacred destiny. You are life's prayer of becoming and its answer. The first light at the dawn of eternity, drawn from the ether, so that I might know my own depth, discover new heights, and revel in seas of blessed emotion.

A pioneer into illusion, an adventurer into the unknown, and a lifter of veils. Courageous, heroic, and exalted by legions in the unseen.

To give beyond reason, to care beyond hope, to love without limit; to reach, stretch, and dream, in spite of your fears. These are the hallmarks of divinity - traits of the immortal - your badges of honor. May you wear them with a pride as great as the immeasurable pride we feel for you.

Your light has illuminated darkened paths, your gaze has lifted broken spirits, and already your life has changed the course of history.

This is the time of year we celebrate.

Bowing before Greatness,
    The Universe

THINKING OF YOU...

as we each journey into a new year,
thank you for traveling along with me -
wishing you peace love and passion -
jenean

the flow of it all...

The quality of the imagination is to flow and not to freeze.

she is...

who is she
this woman of dark mystery
standing there so tall and so straight
a woman whose world they desecrate
where has she been
and who might be her kin
what has she seen
she looks like an african queen
what has she done
her life here just begun
what does she think
does she dream in blue india ink
and what does she feel
with her touch do you think she can heal
so who is she
this woman of dark mystery
she is

you
she is

me
she is

us

 
she

is

dear friends -

just to let you know, as my little campfires in blogland bear witness, the past week or so has found me distracted and sidetracked with the ups and downs of familial and other issues which have taken me from my usual time and energies on my own blogs and those of dear friends such as you -  in addition, i'm working on a couple of LARGE art pieces with imminent deadlines -

so please forgive my seemingly "irreverent" attention here and know that my lack of regular postings and comments in no way reflects anything except that which it is - peripheral things to which i must attend for a couple of weeks -

but i'll be back and forth as i can so please check over at my places at your leisure, as i, of course, will yours!  and, as always, i'll be thinking of you and yours with much affection - jenean

all her own...

lost in a swirl all her own
for no one’s sin does she atone
her body courses to ancient mandolins
strumming with no beginning and no end
strings struggling ‘gainst the sands of time
all to the rhythm of love sublime
from nomadic shadows of the night
the crimson vortex does ignite
whirling echoes of passion’s beat
all stamped out in her gypsy feet

the heart suffers not...

Tell your heart that 

the fear of suffering 

is worse than 

the suffering itself. 

And no heart 

has ever suffered 

when it goes

in search of 

its dream.

the pretty little girl and the hen...

there once was a pretty little girl
with a head full of long ringlet curls

satin ribbons and bows adorned her long hair
she much preferred just going all bare

the mother dressed her in crispy white frocks
pretty white sandals and sheer sheer socks
    
layers and layers of ruffles she wore
she hated it all when she was but four
    
staying inside was not her thing
she’d much rather be out on the big rope swing

pleasing the mother though was what she did
after all, she was just a little kid

then one day the mother left for a while
and out the door she raced with a smile

under the big oak tree she did sit
playing in the grass she could not quit

she sat and sat and wiggled her toes
and watched the clouds row after row

dreaming and floating and dreaming some more
all she wanted was the mother to love to adore

she thought if she had just one special gift
the mother’s dark mood surely would lift    

she loved the chirps of the little birds
if only she could sing without words

so she blew and blew and blew again
before she knew it she heard a sweet strain

again and again the sounds whispered through her lips
now she’d surely win the mother’s kiss

pleasing the mother was what she wanted to do
after all, she was just a little kid who needed love too

then the mother came home to her delight
and with her gift to make things bright

the little girl whistled and whistled with all her might
but the mother just looked down with her mouth all tight

and said to the pretty little girl
with the ringlet curls

a whistling woman and a crowing hen
always come to a very bad end!

that pleasure most beautiful...

“That pleasure which is 

at once the most pure, 

the most elevating 

and the most intense, 

is derived, I maintain, 

from the 

contemplation 

of the beautiful.”

so shall you be...

dream

lofty dreams

and as you

dream

so shall

you

become

a little flower power...

for the man from the cold

to feel all whole

body and soul

the blessed ball...

floating free floating high
in the dark night sky
rising in its own time
pure perfection at its prime
casting sparkling slivers
upon the black waters quiver

the golden globe the blessed ball
does surely all enthrall

hey, travelin' woman...

hey, travelin’ woman, where you been?
you play that mandolin?

            wandering here
            why i don’t see you ever’ year?

travelin’ woman, whatchu done seen?
why, you can’t be more’n eighteen!

            wandering there
            you sellin’ them wares?

travelin’ woman, whatchu been doin?
you gotcha some tattooin'?
              
            wandering everwhere
            you seem to dance on air!

travelin’ woman
twisting on yur purty gold fan
all them bracelets danglin’ jinglejanglin'
skirts blowin’ in the wind
long black hair standin’ on end
lips like big round tangerines
hips swayin’ to the tamborine
 

travelin’ woman,
you one of them gypsy queens?