Tag Archives: Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

Love, loss, hope and acceptance – Monday Features – 7/03/2011

A collection of additional features this week.

These were chosen, not because there is a particular theme, but because they all held a bitter-sweet flavour for me. Some made me want to laugh, others made me want to cry with their poignancy. What they all have in common is a power to move and affect our emotions.

I hope you will enjoy them as much as I have.

Congratulations to you all.

The Cost of Freedom by © Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

The Cost of Freedom by © Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

1984 – the mannequins by © moyo

1984 – the mannequins by © moyo

Maybe for your birthday darling.. by © Berns

Maybe for your birthday darling.. by © Berns

The other ones by © Michele Meister

The other ones by © Michele Meister

After the Hunt by © catrinarno

After the Hunt by © catrinarno

Contemplating Loss (Self-Portrait) by © RC deWinter

Contemplating Loss (Self-Portrait) by © RC deWinter

02-23-2011: The Dangers of Drunk Dialing (limited) by © Margaret Bryant

02-23-2011: The Dangers of Drunk Dialing (limited) by © Margaret Bryant

I Have Not Left… by © Janis Zroback

I Have Not Left… by © Janis Zroback

Our War: Day 206-20110222 by © Cara Schingeck

Our War: Day 206-20110222 by © Cara Schingeck

SELF MERGING THEN TO NOW. by © eoconnor

SELF MERGING THEN TO NOW. by © eoconnor

Where is my head? by © Marlies Odehnal

Where is my head? by © Marlies Odehnal

Queen of Spades by © Dokmai

Queen of Spades by © Dokmai

Enjoy.

Anna xx


Introspective – Midweek Features – 02/03/2011

A mixed day today – foggy and grey in the morning with sunshine and blue skies in the afternoon. Hence we’re having muted features today – just suits my mood.

I just loved the use of space and colour in this image. Fabulous!

Only Me by © Laurie Search

Only Me by © Laurie Search

This poem seemed to fit perfectly…

Alienated by © singerchick

Alienated by my own design
Unintentional, yet it can’t be denied
No blame falls beyond the evil trio
Whose aliases are Me, Myself, and I

Craving pleasant contact from the outside
Still I deny myself and make excuses
“This one is busy, and that one won’t do”
Never admit that my reasons are useless

Oh yes, I am quite the intellectual
Cleverly outsmarting myself once again
Stay safely within my fortress of stone
No risk is taken, endure no more pain

Yet what barb pierces deeper than loneliness?
I’ve yet to discover a wound more unkind
Nor a crueller dispenser of heartache
Than the tricks I play on my own witless mind

Oh yes, I am so foolishly wise
Cunning deception is my perpetration
Pretending my solace is to be found
Only through safeguard against penetration

I love the gentleness in this image. There’s something very thoughtful about it.

Walay Sapayan by © Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

Walay Sapayan by © Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

A match made in heaven. The next poem seems to continue from the image (at least for me).

Autumn by © msdebbie

When autumn leaves
tumble from a tree,
I gain a sense that
she offers praise.

She seeks to dance
with each twist and wave,
arms raised, uncertain
how to move gracefully,
but trying nonetheless.

Even with my beloved
weeping willows,
she effects a tender whirl,
tendrils curl, and slide,
along an impressive trunk.

Always conscious
of her groundedness
she offers safety,
security, year on
year, and still,
despite her heritage,
she rejoices in dance!

As for me in autumn?
I gleam and glimmer.
I take my cues from the trees,
glorying in red, brown, orange hues.

A living sunset.
Breathing in the grass.
Twirling in light rain.

Arms raised,
carefree,
happy to be me.

This is an amazing picture and as far as I am concerned should be shown to girls at school to learn how to feel comfortable with yourself. Such a difficult thing to master.

Comfortably In My Skin (ltd ed) by © Margaret Bryant

Comfortably In My Skin (ltd ed) by © Margaret Bryant

This poem just resonated with me. Can’t quite put my finger on it… LOL

car doors by © Marie Monroe

there are intimacies that can’t be spoken:
touches.
images tacked over a desk.
a stray monopoly piece, a red hotel.

hand holds from a vehicle like a drive-in fast food love.

a tiny teenage valentine: molded plastic caught in a forgotten web of my life’s string.

they come at you through the sacred heart or the solar plexus…wherever you need them.

each satisfies like the last one, but it is a hungry feast.

where hope comes from is far away.
where hope comes from is here.

some hope comes with vision, some with viscera, some with bounce.

the absolute best is not from courage.
courage lives in terror.
courage is only possibility.

this is the zone.
most brave soldiers are not warriors who walk this earth.
there is a walk that shows it.
muscle, bone, levitation.

this is the zone.
this is the warrior.

chat boxes spring up.
human languages form intelligibly as they speak.
they’ve never been spoken before.

typing is a wondrous affair.

for example, there is always fowl.
for example, circumambulation is love spinning out its lines of power,
the grids of this earth tightening.
we are safe from collapse.
we are calibrated.
we have points and between them…

there are geese.
always, for me, there are geese
flanking the wounded, waiting, waiting.

escorts.

smoke cigars in imagination.
hell, light one.

car doors will save you.
regressive speech and its sentiment will sustain.

some will fly again.

all of them.

all of them are precious.

these are the tender things.

how can you speak them?

you just dare.

I agree with Lily, making things by hand is utterly satisfying and almost meditative. It’s good to do things with your hands and let your mind flow where it will.

Born Too Late by © lilynoelle

Born Too Late by © lilynoelle

From ‘womanly arts’ to ‘female wiles’…

Return to Sender by © Jenifer DeBellis

Got the message
you so thriftily taped
to the door frame
of the place I can now
only refer to as ground zero.

I refuse to be a casualty
of the justifications
you’ve so easily graffitied
upon the pile of ruins –

the pile that you
pieced together with
the confetti of words
you cut out of thin air

and are selling to the masses
as pretty little party favors.

I often forget that your
seeing the world through
the limited scope of foggy
perceptions and preconceived
biases is par for the course.

But what, really, I must ask,
can be gained from

such premeditations

of miscalculated motives?

Can any of it be reconciled
within the framework
holding together any one
of these bleeding hearts?

Okay, maybe not quite so introspective but I thought it worked with all the other images. 🙂

Truth and Lies by © strawberries

Truth and Lies by © strawberries

This poem really touched me.

Will I Always Feel This Way? by © Spiritinme

I lift my skirt up to my knees and roll through the sands of time
in my chair, crying in the rain.
You never learned to count our blessings,
You chose instead to dwell on my sins .
You’re never to blame, it’s always the same,
Trying to let go of my pain.
I look through my my tears, and all we’ve collected over the years, now rusting, collecting rain.
Will I always feel this way?
So empty, so estranged, so desperate for my end.

I am so very weary.
If through my soft, crimson lips
I spoke these words out loud would you hear me?
I lay naked out in the open air,
consumed with deep despair.
Realization that this man does not care.
The rain taps on my window
Applauding this reality show,
Watches me weep with nowhere to go
Will I always feel this way?
So empty, so estranged, so desperate for my end.

Well I looked for rainbows after the rain,
my dignity to regain.
Never lost HOPE, no love in your eyes,
Laid bare my soul, to try to survive
Tongue sharp like a razor blade that cuts me at every chance.
With intent to destroy me and make me flee, but
As of late your behavior surely bores me.
Will I always feel this way?
So empty, so estranged, so desperate for my end?

There’s a lot of ways to die, my friend,
And you no longer live,
It makes me ill to watch you
The devil your best friend
And I can’t walk with you anymore
On a path that leads to darkness and despair
For I am headed to the Light,
You can’t hurt me there,
I’ll be loved and taken care of all day and night.
Will I always feel this way?
So empty, so estranged, so desperate for my end?

I just love this whole series and had to feature at least one of them. This one seemed to fit best with my muted, introspective mood.

Whos going to fall down at your feet by © madworld

Whos going to fall down at your feet by © madworld

The ultimate in introspective… talking to yourself?

My Other Self by © SFlora

How did my Universe move so far away from yours
When I am born from you
When the waves of my Seas
Move only to reach you
To meet you at the shore
Who put the wall between you and me
I never knew
Never saw
Forgot about
The internal war
I faced and overcame
With waterfalls of paint
Glazing my emotions
Speaking wordless rhythms
In symbiotic silences
We loved and lived
Today she reminded me
That lions rest in the palms of my hands
That fire can speak from the tips of my feathered fingers
That her voice burns with life
That silent worlds can be born from a pen and page
How is it that I can forget what I am
And at times I see what I missed
The unfeeling kiss
The loveless, indifferent, majestic bliss
At times I see
What I cannot
Without you
At times you move
Like a black cloud across the moon
And I can only feel the shadow you cast

I can only feel

I can only feel

Hope you enjoyed today’s features. xo


Midweek Features – 17/02/11 – Cocoon

Sorry guys, the features are a few days late. I am suffering from a horrible cold  so Anna let me off the hook. LOL

More bad news I am afraid – for the writers – my cold makes it difficult to concentrate so I felt I couldn’t do justice to the writings so it’s only art this week. I’ll make it up to you next week, promise!

This weeks theme is ‘cocoon’. Not sure what made me think of it. Maybe because the end of Winter is nigh and the feeling of waiting for Spring is upon us. All sorts of hidden emotion and things going on. 🙂

What better way to start us off on this week’s travels but Lily’s White Witch. There is something cocoon like about her half concealed face and closed eyes.

The White Witch by © lilynoelle

The White Witch by © lilynoelle

The curled up figure in Geraldine’s image continues the theme. I had this ear marked for the features as soon as it appeared in my image stream.

This Place by © Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell
This Place by © Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

The next image is by Valerie. Someone is prevented to come out of their cocoon – to speak their mind or to maybe just say their name. We wonder, is this self inflicted or is she silenced by someone else?

Silenced by © Valerie Burke

Silenced by © Valerie Burke

The beautiful image by Hsien-Ku feels to me like a transformation about to happen.

H-K301 by © hsien-ku

H-K301 by © hsien-ku

Maria’s ‘Fate’ – fate is something waiting to happen, like a caterpillar in its cocoon is waiting to become a butterfly. I bet you wondered how I’ll get this one to fit! LOL

FATE by © Maria Gilbert

FATE by © Maria Gilbert

The husk we leave behind when we leave our cocoon by Kasia.

...Love don’t live here anymore …Just emptiness and memories … by © kasia ikasia

...Love don’t live here anymore …Just emptiness and memories … by © kasia ikasia

And here’s Strawberries depiction of xenophobia. Definitely someone who’d profit coming out of their shell…

Xenophobia by © strawberries
Xenophobia by © strawberries

Mid-transformation? by dmcart.

Enredada by © dmcart

Enredada by © dmcart

This is the image that started it all this time. Agnes’ Loneliness. It made me think of the way we hide ourselves away…

loneliness.. by © agnès trachet

loneliness.. by © agnès trachet

What better way to hide than in plain sight and especially at a meeting like in Marlies’ image where a cocoon might replace armour?

Meeting of the queens by © Marlies Odehnal

Meeting of the queens by © Marlies Odehnal

In Trish’s image we see someone maybe still weak from coming out of their cocoon, letting go of the shell that protects us and often keeps us at arm’s length from others.

Letting go.. by © Trish Woodford

Letting go.. by © Trish Woodford

Finally, Leah Michelle’s image where someone has left their cocoon and is now stranded by the road side. We wonder what will happen next? At least I am wondering.

Still Waiting for You… by © Lea Michelle

Still Waiting for You… by © Lea Michelle

I hope that despite the limitations this week (mine not the great art or writings in our group), you’ve enjoyed my little journey into the world of cocoons and other hiding places.


Midweek Features 24/11/2010

We’re finally finding our stride and here are the midweek features – a mix of art and writing.

Mixed Feelings by ©Agent7

One of my fave images this month. There’s so much to see and understand in this. The technique is fab and the look and feel are great. Perfect to start off the features.

Mixed feelings by Agent7

Mixed feelings by Agent7

Sixty Ticks Of Nothing by ©acquaridan

All the business of life and all the things we need to do, that are expected of us and so little time to just be – perfectly expressed in this poem.

I’m not crazy
Not at all

Seriously

I keep telling myself that
I may just believe it

One of these days

For all intense purposes
No one would suspect a thing
My friend and I we work
In simpatico with each other

We have an understanding
An agreement if you will
To co-exist in a state
Of perpetual normalacy

Normal
What is that

Really

Responsibilities and rules
Governed by obligations
Distinguished with deadlines
Which necessitate compliance

Appointments to keep
Places in which to be
Conversations to be had
Agendas to follow

Stop
Timeout

Sit on the bench

Remove thy mask
Disrobe the facade
Moments of solitude
Minutes of nothingness

Longing to take a breath
With no where to go
Wanting to sit a while
Nowhere to be

Hold it
Wait for it

Release the valve

Stay a while and be
Content with yourself
Let seconds pass you by
You’ll catch up the hours

Take in that which you miss
You must it has missed you too
Absorb the tranquility
Arouse each sense

Craziness
Is not taking a moment

When you need it most

Being consumed by too much
To not know solace and comfort
In moments of serenity
360 degrees 60 ticks
Of peaceful nothing

Thoughts For Company by ©Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

There are so many different aspects to women and the introspection and thoughtfulness in this lovely image touched me.

Thoughts For Company by Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

Thoughts For Company by Geraldine (Gezza) Maddrell

the weight of life moving forward without you by ©ShadowDancer

A thoughtful and beautiful poem, perfectly encapsulating the mood Geraldine’s image (above).

While butterflies make love on the tips of sunbeams,
my toes sink into the moist moss near the creek,
its crystalline waters move into a symphony
as it soothes its own speckled rocks,
and the scent of honeysuckle seduces the world.

I watch this day pass in slow motion;
I feel the weight of everything that surrounds me,
tasting the heavy flavor of life moving on…

and I wonder
will we ever be together?


Back to earth by ©catrinarno

And here’s yet another aspect of what it means to be a woman. There’s romance but there’s more to this. It’s back to earth with the prize held tightly. Fabulous image, wonderful colours and just that little something extra. 🙂

Back to earth by catrinarno

Back to earth by catrinarno

Word Versus Word by ©H M Bascom

An amazing poem full of truth and the duality of life.

I read a word
it was not a big word
four letters
no more

but this word
though not a big word
had power
to hurt

I wrote a word
a really big word
four letters
no less

and this word
was such a big word
with power
to heal

Feel by ©dorina costras

And here is sensuality and enjoyment in it. The colours and movement in this are wonderful and the message is just what we need to hear, guiltfree and beautiful.

Feel by Dorina Costras

Feel by Dorina Costras

When You Were Born by ©Kristin Reynolds

This really touched me. I still remember that first moment of laying eyes on my son, of holding him. It’s something you never forget.

The moment that my eyes laid claim
to every atom that makes you
beheld upon your ancient face—
each pore, each crease, each shining truth!—

was when my journey to this time,
this when and where became love clear,
that every hurt which spat me out
was meant to bring my love to here.

Each lifetime I give birth to you
(my greatest gift and work of art!)
and as you search my fervent eyes
I see within my own true heart—

it is this now, right now I see
in your sweet face that time is naught,
we have but now, this perfect breath;
you’re every answer I once sought.

And as we lay skin touching skin
beneath this sky we are but one,
just you and I, love, always here:
a mother and her newborn son.

Run your fingers, through my soul by ©madworld

I have to say, the first thing that attracted me to this image was the poetic title. Don’t we all wish for this closeness? The image perfectly shows this. The simplicity of it makes it all the more touching.

Run your fingers, through my soul by Madworld

Run your fingers, through my soul by Madworld

Pecking Order by ©Jenifer DeBellis

Intriguing and thought provoking poetry.

It was just plain Weird

to witness nature in action
completely out of context.

A sea of words
can paint
a single gesture
of body language,
yet how many will see
the intentions
of a premeditated mind?

To find a place to hang
the hat of reason
is the kind of challenge
most won’t even
go out on a limb for.

While breadcrumbs leave a trail
on the floor of a hungry babe’s
fountain of understanding,
only the light of revelation
will illuminate
the tree of knowledge.

Papa bird waits for
Mama’s call of warning
that never reaches the wind
in time to derail
the runaway train.

Here the tide washes in,
reeking in ways
that can’t be explained
with a small handful
of pearly, cute-shaped words.

The night owl
watches from a branch
just beyond sight,
mumbling warnings
about the day’s last flight
into the dawn of reality.

It was the weirdest thing
to witness, and weirder still
was the eerie silence.

Even the wind died on deaf ears.

i don’t mind waiting… by ©clancy214

And here the finale – what a lovely image, so full of longing and hope and fulfillment. Perfect to end the features. 🙂

i don't mind waiting... by clancy214

i don't mind waiting... by clancy214

Bitter Sweet by ©Vickie Bodie

Beautiful poem, thoughtful, and, yes, bitter sweet. Do you remember your first kiss?

Should each bit of Life
Be tasted like a Kiss
Bitter Sweet

Yet linger on
the end of the tongue
tasted off the lip

Full of desire and Passion
with the purity
of the innocents

Or

Should it be like
the fire that burns
within that first kiss

Should that first kiss then
be the only kiss
and remain
Bitter Sweet