Walk… don’t walk… a digital play
Mystical forces, magical energies at cross roads
Palpable sensations in a sacred space
Caught in a Mediterranean trance
Restraint beneath the stillness of weathered bark
The rare glance of an old angel –
The Saint that slipped past God
Into the silver bliss into the unknown where we cannot go
Which we cannot mention
-
Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
The thought of your birthday stirs me - awake
“Without apprehension or apology”
I write in the Advent of Rituals
In harmony, comfort, genuine delight
Celebrate your halting of time
In your sacred season
-
Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Natures rasping harmonies in
Mass of green, brown…
wind- riffled creeks
held by silvery-tangled firewood
… Points of awakening in plots of flakes
-
Linked moments hand-picked for nurturing
Ice splintered limbs tore through tree’s sap
Warm tones of stones in frost delight
Livelihood lovingly trails in flurry sights
-
Propulsive energy surged, stings
Joy rises, churned, strung tight
Winter in full trestle in old quarry thoughts
Harness afar in sun-shot sensation
-
Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Photographed by Judy Olsen
I am laced in silence
In the chasm of winter’s weave
Drizzled with potent energy on black canvas
Leaves applause with its animated sap
Melted into a replica of open secret circles
-
Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Photographed by Judy Olsen
The presence of the past…
in a pendulum of priceless impulse
fragrance born in touches of
quiet affection, silent adoration
calm gravity folded in hues
under clear skies
The peaceful rhythm of tender branches
Tapestry of genes nourishing roots
Silhouettes of awareness treasured
The mirror of self reflecting purity
-
Poem Written By Brenda L. McCartney
Photgraphed by Judy Olsen
Quiet moments punctuate thoughts
Molding, melting ice pellets
The unsuspected interlocks
Liberty folds in trickles
Purity, color mounts
Sunlight pulls in vortex encounters
The organic fascinates,
…talks with certainty
Luminous with joy
The blue pine of autumn
On Table Top glass
-
Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Photographed by Thomas Francisco
Incisive decisions beat
Eyes smile to the gentle rhythm
Tulip bosom expressive all season
Seraphic energy molds
those who spring from
and around you
Feathers of nurture
Spirit laps no cost
As your crescent shape cradles
We honor
-
Poem by Brenda L. McCartney
I
We sat
Exploring life
Our lives – eyes – wide open
Under fettered compelling emotions
Ethnographic still life
Inscriptions in mosaics piece by piece
II
Nocturnal pauses – the rhythm of bugle
cowbell, goombay and goat skin drums
Images muse in cultural imagination
Subliminal manipulations
Vividly conjured
III
Mosaic depictions in an episodic buzz of a Byzantine era
Vignettes bold
Night and day reflections
World of spirits – old and new
Rattles, dazzles
Yoruba tradition blares in a drumming dance
Multiple layers under the dominance of gazes
Red, yellow, blue, gold, white and black touchingly reconciled
The radiance of Junkanoo faces not bound by season
But kindred spirits
-
Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Image taken by Tom
I stood in the zoo looking at a peafowl willing him to raise the train of feathers for a stunning display but to no avail. I wanted to see the spread of the feathers. It would make a great photo and a memorable moment. Now that I have had a chance to do some research on the peafowl I have learned that there has to be a reason for them to raise their feathers. I have also learned that in Hindu the peacock is a symbol of mortality and love and most times when people think of the peafowl it is usually in reference to the male with its raised train of multicolored feathers. That is why we call them peacocks – the cock part signifies that it is a male and this particular peacock was an India Blue Peacock.
So there I stood in the sun raising my arms, my daughter and husband and a random woman raising their arms as well – hoping that this peacock would somehow show us his full plumage. What struck me that day was the bold shimmer of blue on the peacock’s neck. Another lady stood by making her own observation of the peacock. She openly shared my sentiments about the brilliance of the blue. If someone would ask me what is my favorite a color a color does not come to mind. For me a favorite color depends on my mood.
On that day even the hot sun seemed cool. When I reflected on the peacock it was as if it embodied tranquility even in its colors. A few weeks has passed since by experience at the zoo but still there is something electrifying about the anatomy of a peahen’s brilliant color particularly the blue. This week shades of this hue has been revealed in several places or things namely; Bridesmaid dresses, red carpet dresses, the color of cars, that I felt compelled to blog about this.
Do you know what is your favorite color is? Is there a particular reason why you like a certain color. Is your favorite color a color that has to compliment your skin tone, eyes etc.?
Image taken by Saas Fee, perle-der-alpen.ch
Love After Love
-
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here.
Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine.
Give bread.
Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit.
Feast on your life
.
Poem Written by Derek Walcott
Some may say this is cynical piece for Valentines Day; I call it a masterpiece. Be positive appreciate the person you are simultaneously celebrate others in your life.
© 2011 McCartney House
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