To Get To You

In this dream my arms
are the branches of trees
and you are my nourishment.
Cut me down to a boat.
My spine is a sturdy keel
my hair a furl of sails in

the dark sky of uncertainty.

A lighthouse is my only lamp
the stars held captive in your hand.
If the sea does not capitulate
red sails cast into a cleft
too wide for me to cross,
I was trying to get to you.

Art from Getty

One-Eye Art Gowns Guitars

Resa and Timothy’s creativity has been working overtime and I’m so glad to host this venture. I am pretty sure ZZ Topp is pleased to be a part of it too. Hurry, go on over! ❤

Graffiti Lux Art & More

H’eye all! Tonight I’m your host for a most thrilling announcement event! Timothy Price from Off Center Not Even is using 2 of Resa’s One-Eye drawings to adorn his custom made guitars.

Resa did this One-Eye drawing with Tim and his guitars in mind. It is the first time anyone has seen it, except Tim, myself & Boogapony.

Here is a slideshow of 10 other One-Eyes Resa has done.

Yes, there is 1 ~ One-Eye missing from the slideshow, and here it is!

Tim personally picked this blue One-Eye from Resa’s collection.

There will be much deliberation amongst the Art Gowns Models, as to how we would like to present these & possibly more guitars on Art Gowns. While we are waiting to hear from all of the Art Gowns Models, my totally hip cousin, Boogapony, would like to say a few words.

Click pic to view Jimi Hendrix Tribute

View original post 164 more words

Backpacker stands

Woodsy the Performance Poet

I could still hear the voice jabbing in my ear, could still feel the sting of it even now:

“Write me something that makes sense of all this! Write that love of yours, so I can really feel it, even with the world the way it is!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you with the big heart… Show me.”

I couldn’t  hear this overgrown heart of which they spoke.  I couldn’t hear much at all beyond a noisy world’s assumptions,  feeding each other down familiar roads.  So I staggered off towards a place too far for me to walk…

a place to which no trains are running anymore…

a place that now seems to exist only in the fevered storm clouds of my imagination –

and I still didn’t know what to say.

Wherever you stand, the world flows with atrocities.

Wherever you stand, smiles are a hair-trigger away from dying.

Wherever you…

View original post 743 more words

Frida Kahlo and Nickolas Muray

In Nickolas Muray’s (Hungarian-born American photographer)1939 portrait of painter Frida Kahlo a crown of purple yarn weaves in and out of her thick black hair, flyaways break loose from her braids. Her favorite shawl, a deep magenta rebozo wraps around her shoulders matching the warm flush of her cheeks and her painted nails—glints of red that call attention to her strong hands. She leans comfortably against a wall gazing resolutely if not lovingly at the camera.

nickolasmuray.com

d7hftxdivxxvm.cloudfront.net

frida_nickolas_01-540s

Muray and Kahlo were at the height of their on-again off-again ten-year relationship when these pictures were taken. Their affair had started in 1931 after Muray was divorced from his second wife and shortly after Kahlo’s marriage to Mexican muralist Diego Rivera. It outlived Muray’s third marriage and Kahlo’s divorce and remarriage to Rivera by one year, ending in 1941. They remained good friends until her death in 1954.

Frida

In the portrait she wears
a coral shawl across her shoulders.
Terracotta lips are set in granite.
Her eyes are the color of the earth,
they scream the anguish of the world.
Her image is etched into tapestry
hung from nails on a farmhouse wall.
She is captured by the hand
of a woman uprising
She is proud
she is Mexico.

poetry by Holly Rene Hunter

effigy

She no longer recalls or feels

Freedom is not a concept

The curve of her back is wired

with filament and straw fills

the space that held a heart

Constructed for crows her limbs

are stripped of flesh

her pupils fixed in the dark.

Her lips are strung with suffering

she no longer speaks because

there are no words that

cut deep enough.

Metal woman

Poetry and Tea Roses

I will always disappoint you

my verse is no where near roses

pigment stained and tear smudged

overflowing with sudden downpours

a spiraling monsoon that can

not be held back with the tenderest

of sighs.

I tell lies lovingly

each line a litany of devotion

or a buzzed serendipity.

I will fall in love with the sleeved

heart of every poet.

Save me from obscurity, give me a purpose

sugary rose petals or the embryo

of a pearl washed ashore.

9DEFDD41-C9EA-446A-B1D1-D1F3D14F80A6

The Letter

I left a message for you in a book.
It is like me to mark provocative phrases,
to shake them out in ponderous verses.
Do not read too much in the fallout,
the notes in the border are for nostalgia’s sake.
I dreamt of you again last night
my adversary
whose aura I barely recall.
My suffering is not in knowing what was real
but what was not.

papers.co-aw53-yanjun-cheng-girl-green-sexy-illustration-art-paint-4-wallpaper-260x460

10,000 followers

Congratulations Mr. Lonely…well deserved. I never really Had the chance to thank you properly for the lovely poem, it is quite breathtaking.
Thank you so much for your inspiration.

The Lonely Author

10,000 followers

Hello. I never mention these milestones, but this time I felt I should.

First, I would like to thank the three men that are following me. Never would have achieved this without you. ONLY KIDDING.

I find this achievement remarkable because after two weeks of blogging, I only had one follower Eye-Dancers. By the end of my first full month, I picked up a second follower Carrie Rubin. Thanks to them for their early encouragement.

I have been lucky to make amazing friends who have been with me since the beginning of this incredible journey. Sweet and supportive Aruna @ Roseyevening, a special writer and funny friend John at FictionFavorites, the only blogger I refer to as my sister Diane at LadiesWhoLunchReviews , and a very special gentleman across the pond Derrick at DerrickJKnight.

This post wouldn’t be possible without the generous support…

View original post 183 more words

Marc Chagall [1887 – 1985]

Marc Chagall on display at Marina Kanavaki… stunning art and wonderful narrative.

Marina Kanavaki

Self Portrait

Russian-French painter, lithographer, etcher and designer.

Marc Chagall

was born,

July 7, 1887,

in Vitebsk, Russia


An early modernist, he was associated with several major artistic styles and created works in a wide range of artistic formats, including painting, drawings, book illustrations, stained glass, stage sets, ceramic tapestries and fine art prints.

Before World War I, he travelled between Saint Petersburg, Paris, and Berlin. During this period he created his own mixture and style of modern art based on his idea of Eastern European Jewish folk culture. In Paris, he associated with Guillaume Apollinaire and Robert Delaunay and encountered Fauvism and Cubism.He spent the wartime years in Soviet Belarus, becoming one of the country’s most distinguished artists and a member of the modernist avant-garde, founding the Vitebsk Arts College before leaving again for Paris in 1923.

Using the medium of stained glass, he produced windows for…

View original post 537 more words