Your Art in the Spotlight

A beautiful piece of art by: SmallStepCloser

~~~

Crafts is Love
(dreamcatcher project)

Besides travelling I love arts & crafts too. And lately I found one that really suits me 🙂 it is the dreamcatcher making! I am sharing my first ones with you guys. It’s not that hard and very calming, I recommend doing those to every crafty soul out there 😉

~~~

Original posted: HERE

The couple who own the blog take, and share, also wonderful and amazing photographs.

Advertisements

Your Art in the Spotlight

A beautiful piece of art by: Andy ~ Poetry is my aeroplane

~~~

I beg your pardon

Once more I found myself

Wedged into a cycle of regret.

The lessons learned from times past

Eluded me in my time of need –

No witty reply,

No clever riposte

Escaped my gaping mouth…

Until I got home with time to stew –

Mentally running scenarios, and

Creating unspoken witticisms.

 

One day I’ll be prepared

For the audacity of my fellow man.

Maybe…

~~~

Original posted: HERE

Your Art in the Spotlight

Happy to inform you, dear reader, we have a new art-family member and what better way to introduce him by …

… a beautiful piece of art by: Eric Syrdal

~~~

The background noise you hear
is the screaming of my soul
amplified and echoing over the eons
it is a constant cacophony within my skull
it is the traumatized keening
of a tortured mind on fire
it is my desperate attempt to make sense
of this
circus you call reality
it is my subconscious trying to reason with these
Wonderlandian rules that you have created
spilled out upon pages of black and white checkerboard
some words fit
other words don’t
some words will be seen
other words won’t
I can hear my heart’s maniacal giggling
almost a child’s sing-song story nursery rhyme
about being careful
to watch your step
and falling anyway
because the flagstones are wet parchment and marshmallow fluff
your Carrollean jubjub bird
has a sharp beak
and I can hear the bandersnatch within the thicket grove
growling for a feast at my throat
I am no stranger to wounds
I have bound myself together more times than I can count
never with cloth
always with steel and leather
until I disappear behind lays of protection so thick
no one knows my face, not even the mirror
you believe you control my image
you have given me the biceps of Athena
the sway of Aphrodite in my hips
the power of Boudica in my stride
the angle of Joan D’arc in my jaw
yet now you think you can hold me here?
in this tiny box you balance in your outstretched palm
why?
because my cheek bones cannot cut glass?
because I choose the sword over the milk pail?
because I fight for my sisters instead of mourn their fate?
make no mistake
under this armor lies the heart of a goddess
starkly defended by the blade of a she-wolf

~~~

Original posted: HERE

Your Art in the Spotlight

A beautiful piece of art by: Greg Richards

~~~

HUNTER PI

He slept, adrift, temporal dream dissonance,
His dream: a woman sheathed within her magic,
Dreams that formed and folded, crested, crashed and broke
Within the swell that sought safe harbour,
Trees rooted in the swell, summer gripped by winter sea,
Sun warm upon his face, hoar frost rimed within his beard,
He shivered in his bed, linen drenched by sweat,
As body, shuddered, confused, accommodation sought with
Dream infused, chaos wrought vision of his dream.
Dark wings beating, ancient augur echoed,
Shapes shadow scribed upon the walls,
Mingled with shadow etchings cast
By dwindling candle and dying embers of the fire.

© Greg Richards

(Extract from “Hunter”, a Poem from my Upcoming Chapbook “Rhymer”)

~~~

Original posted: HERE

Your Art in the Spotlight

A beautiful piece of art by: Daisy in the Willows

~~~

Catch22

Fall – leaves turn shades of browns and greens.
my heart dips and I don’t feel  that same sense of  summer’s beams.
Alone. I look to my left. Creativity shines- glitter, stilettos- latex, white faux fur coats.
All legs.
Like a string of pearls flung across a room,  a musky scent wafts across my midst.
Temptations persist. Glamour. Warmth is all I seek. Summer,why do you have to be
so cruel?
I know if I cross over to the other side – I’ll be feeling the  warmth – it will be pimped out in box ring styles – I won’t have time to dodge the fists.
My body will burn up an exotic shade of hues. I will have no rest.
Hell is the other side of Summers gluttonous  jazz bassline.
One hit. One vein. Blood – artificial nirvana could infiltrate my being.
I won’t have to think of the biting cold that is ringing in my ears. Muffled will be the ice cone, frozen on the edge of my nose. It doesn’t matter who sees that I have been seen.
Bus shelters full, spikes erect from the corporate  underground – I can’t sit down. I know it takes less muscles to smile than frown.
Energy is all I have to see me through this cycle of  undomesticated abuse. October may be Domestic abuse awareness month.
If I hadn’t left my keeper, I would still have a roof over my head.
A blanket.
I would still be touched.
Roughed up .
Better the devil you know – I know every one of his moves. I know when to dissociate –
detach my mind
from my body.
Floating above the marital , martial art stylised  bed – I see myself and that devil married,grabbing folds of my skin. He doesn’t notice the smell of the new conditioner I bought at Asda or how soft the sheets feel now they  have been newly spun.
Dryer . I’m dry. He doesn’t notice the lack of moisture. He doesn’t notice that all of that fluid has shot up to my eyeballs . I refuse to let them free flow – I am not her. I’m floating.
Fly on the wall. Caught up in a spiders web. I have to watch. It doesn’t matter if I have a crick in my neck – oh hang on a minute is he choking me?
Leftover food languishing in the sink drain. He switched the waste disposal  on to automatic. Arrested, I am back in bed , under him. Time to vogue with my lips and give him  a little pucker.
These white sheets  have turned red in his need to let off steam. I come out in blisters hovering underneath his vapour.
Turn my neck – feels like I need a box of  throat lozenges for having to get all deep throat.
5 am flashing in stimulant green.
I’m 5 months pregnant. I am going to be late.
Grab the nearest decent clothes. Pull on my Adidas trainers. Scrape my hair up into a ponytail.
Finally the motivation to go on the run. I don’t have to time myself. I know his schedule well.
An Olympic torch passes into my hand. I’m running for freedom . Liberty is my destination.
I can start over.
Spring – blues, violets, colours in a perfect union – uncompressed. Naturally dressed.
For the first time in months, I feel like I belong. I too am a medley of colours. I blend in.
Natures milkshake collects in my breasts –  4 months to go until I give birth to a miracle of pure life.
Not branded a colour – just innocence – a chance to see a light – work on my soul and tackle it all. This is the only cure.
Vanilla.
I am no Killer.
Life goes in cycles. It passes by fast. There are no traffic jams when you have to pick up your feet and walk.
Eyes cast down, belly protruding.
Christian volunteers crouch down next to me- hand me a card.
Die and be reborn.
They can help me. I just have to give my old life to our saviour. I’ve never met him but he sounds
Forgiving, comforting, caressing- a handwash with extra Aloe vera – calming properties.
All I have to  do is offer my unborn child to him and I can enter paradise with the rest  of  my weary comrades.
Eyes raise up to the bitter sky. I’ve always thought whatever is up there twinkling and winking down at me is having a far better time than me.
My unborn deserves a place in heaven. Earth only promises scars and  wild jungle roots to keep it grounded to the spot.
The ultimate sacrifice.
Did I fold in with this cult out of cowardice?
I will drink my poison.
Maybe this winter I will be reunited with the one that let out a sudden cry.
Lead me not into temptation. I lie  down , no need to be afraid, child. I close my eyes and sigh.
Hope is my last premise.

* Inspired by domestic violence awareness month*

~~~

Original posted: HERE