Image by Tom Grill
Sometimes I have an inescapable obligation to myself to comment or write my thoughts with a pure voice but I choose not you use obvious abusive or crass language. I have always marveled at literary works back when language and speaking was an art rather than just functionary as it is now. No matter how modern our society has become it is considered a social solecism to conduct ourselves in a certain manner. Consequently, rather than putting myself at the risk of speaking with a supercilious voice in the end I express my thoughts poetically, which can be interpreted as memoirs of guises.
Jamaican Raphael Carl Rattray felicitously pen poem “Restraint” expresses this same sentiment; that tells a ‘poignant story of the agony of choice.’
My bottled thoughts
Stopped with caution
Born of learning
Strain now to issue
From sealed lips;
To break free
From civil bonds,
To say
What comes to mind,
Ignoring
Rules of circumspection
Or the bruised effect,
Upon the hearer
I want to hurt
With words,
Simmered in the cauldron
Of my discontent;
To disgorge
The constrained acid
In my soul;
To have lava flow
From the volcano
Of my mind
But a greater force,
Now intervenes,
The polishing effect
Of tutored words,
The nourishing
In school rooms
Long deserted,
The warm caresses
On a thousand bosoms –
They hug me close,
And leave me
Civilized,
And mute
-
Poem Written by Raphael Carl Rattray
Photographed by John Smith
Monosyllabic gaze
A gentle insistence
Honey-colored mornings
Hypnotic patterns – calm blue
Crimson thoughts, chilling notes
-
Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
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Image taken from cruisetalk.net
Each week as I drive along West Bay Street in the morning I am always in time to observe the Disney Cruise Line make a one hundred and eighty degree turn in the waters to sail out of Port Nassau. This always inspires certain awe. This morning again, I witness that same turn as this time it reversed into Port Nassau. I can not explain why it evokes such a feeling. My husband tells me that anything that large when it moves is always a sight to behold. Maybe in my subconscious it is a metaphor for when someone makes a turn or a turn around in life? A turn around can be one of the most exhilarating and enriching feelings in life. For some, that turn can be the sign of better things to come.
Ever day opens and closes like a flower – John Muir
Photographed by M.V Adler
As our thoughts are with the women in our lives and we get ready to observe and honor mothers, motherhood and maternal bonds this coming Sunday let us celebrate those we love as we shall grow to bear a resemblance to them
The day compose of many moments unseen
The spark from her sting as the beauty of spring
Manors of consoling embraces
The stains and wrinkles of time remove
Her hug begrimed with nurture
Mesmerize with laughter
Millions of faucet smiles and tears pour
Scent of protection lounge
Sunlight of wisdom mentor
As moments fat with love gibbers
Rainbows fail in comparison to her beauty
Chill with endless sacrifice
Her pulse and thoughts beats fiercely
Her hands, bosoms feeds, hold even entice
-
Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Quilted by Carol Sauer Beckmann
Pieced appliqué thoughts
Where complete sets amassed for leisure
Textures tear away in patterns dots
Stitched on bits of cloth a pleasured treasure
-
Library mosaic in colors of many threads
With completed first editions
Transport, transforms, embeds
The stamping of friendships renditions
-
The released passionate, personal at peace
A fragrant pausing, with style acquired
Infusion, wit, wisdom, desired design Matisse
A lifetime collection inspired
-
A slow turning of free motions
The pace of many ginger bliss nights
On quilted Volumes of many selections
As Billy Joel Plays You May Be Right
-
A lone daguerreotype adorns as its laments
Created with fervor she presents
The beginning of a tradition well meant
For a Quilter in Residence
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