Tag Archives: jacqleen

Midweek Features 09/02/2011 – Feeling Blue

I am feeling the Winter blues and I am yearning for Spring… So here are some images and writing that encapsulate the blues for me – either because of the colouring or the mood within.

The first image caught my attention because of the beautiful colouring and the windswept flowing movement within the image.

Lost Forever by © Amalia Iuliana Chitulescu

Lost Forever by © Amalia Iuliana Chitulescu

The perfect companion to the image.

Blue by © Tracy Faught

Blue,night,murky twighlight dances across the lake,waves washing cool carvings in the sand.

Aqua,water pebbels moving under my feet, grating into the cool bottom, looking down I see the rippling surface.

Saphire reflected from the sky,sun gone, moonlight passing through the dappled mystery in the blue below, splashing, cleansing,cooling, a window open to a watery world…below the waves, the mist and to the horizon beyond.

Envelop my senses.

Jacqleen’s image just seemed to be the logic continuation. I love the colouring and the depth.

just BREATHE… by © jacqleen

just BREATHE… by © jacqleen

From air to water…

Colour of water by © Unique-Mystique

Colour of water
Flows on blue
Like your deep eyes view
Waves upon the crest
Smooth motion moves
Way back on the brink
Of the fast paced sink
Filling to the top
Where one chooses to bathe
Memories are compelled
All earth is scathed
To undo the tiny kots made
Swim on by this ocean blue
Let night fall become you

The next image just encapsulates the ‘blues’ for me. Fabulous image and text combination.

stark by © awdigitaldreams

stark by © awdigitaldreams

What could be more blue than missed chances and opportunities?

I’m Sorry by © lovelyrita

I miss you sometimes
But I’d never tell you

The black box
matches the bottom of the ocean
and it’s locked,
sealed
closed.
I triple-checked.

I’d like to for you open it
but I’m scared you’ll laugh,
or cry,
or ignore me completely.

Maybe years from now,
when I’m dead
and you’re living off your art,
your heart will reach into the depths of the ocean
and dig out a little red or orange box
dry it off
read its contents

and say,
“Me too.”

There is so much honesty in this self portrait. The misery and unhappiness come off in waves.

Self portrait from 2006 by © homesick

Self portrait from 2006 by © homesick

Another triumph by Kristin and another truth and hard lesson to learn.

Karma’s a bitch: love comes whether you see it or not by © Kristin Reynolds

Feed me to the lions—
God knows I
would do the same
for you.

If not you,
than who, my love?
Who better than to gift me
a death?—
the miracle
of beginning again.

Who better
to sew up my dues
with black ribbons
fool wrapped
in honey?
By Kali’s
three-way black eye,
weaving
her head-turning poisons
back
like hurricanes
into the mouths
of prisoners.

Who better to chance me
a more beautiful shape
of being,
than eternity with her gown
to the floor—
her body
made of heavens and sweet
succulent blooms
spun from a lyre’s
hazy
immaculate web—

and just that much
closer to God.

I thank you,
my horrible, beautiful,
lost and found love
for learning each chord
of my lute,

then breaking it’s notes

down
to feed.

And following are two of the most beautiful portraits I’ve seen in some time. I love the celebration of feminity of this one…

May by © TaniaLosada

May by © TaniaLosada

And one of those special poems by Cynthia – they are intricate and delicate as her art.

one.seven.twenty.eleven by © Cynthia Lund Torroll

It is so early
to be so long now
to see terrain
of noted exhales
of knots of energy
that pool around throat
and lungs

She heard the birds
falling from night skies
the black with red wings
found with blue
streaming from their mouths

They were her favorite
she liked their strange call
back twenty years more
a message noted
of orbits forming
of winds that gather
or sweep entirely free

and I love the depth and strength in this one. It doesn’t get much better.

Her eyes hold the world by © madworld

Her eyes hold the world by © madworld

I leave you with a free falling poem by tinhearts.

past time by © tinhearts

days dream into space
inviting me anxiously
watching my life
a cat chasing his tail
i’m allowing this blank face
releasing all strife
luring me into oblivion
instincts don’t rely on details
fallacies open door
the world, as small
as it has become
seeing there is no opinion
i follow anymore
except the voice
i do believe in wearing nikes
this unknown world
i made a choice
feeling actually unattached
yet a part of it all
peace at the end of my flag pole
being alive i am free
innocence in the form of a snack
treasures in every beak
tapping on my window
they know i am their soul
skies, mountains peak
tipping their hat
watching the view
smiling in relief
i am 5 ft 0
a giant sized handful at that
in my minds eyes
looking in the mirror
not my cup of tea
common
take a trip on the wild side
become invisible
with me
i promise i’m not contagious
as far as i can see
however
who will be the judge
if i am
twirling your uncertainty
innocently cleaver
but courageous
catching you in a snare
freeing you as i am free
signing the dotted line
with my smudge
knowing we are thin air
dance with me
since it’s my dime
who knows when we will be
the next eclipse
spectators scopes observe
as the world turns
into bliss
in no time
we return
sublime
smiling as we
are the observers
wild and crazy
maybe
escaping
past time

*

Here’s hoping you enjoy feeling blue on this Winter’s day… 🙂

Sybille and Anna

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Sunday Features – 30/01/2011 – Different Worlds

My theme for this week are the different worlds we live in – not the ones everyone can see, but the inner worlds. This was inspired by Kristin’s fabulous image. I have to admit I felt attracted to this image in part because of it’s title. It’s something that a character says in one of my favourite books – Jack in The Dark Tower by Stephen King – and it was always one of those lines that stuck with me.

There are other worlds than these by © Kristin Reynolds
There are other worlds than these by © Kristin Reynolds

The next poem I chose because it’s so in contrast with the acceptance of Kristin’s poem – someone still trying to find ‘their’ world.

My voice by © SFlora

Sometimes i feel like im wedded to passivity
I have shed many skins
To be reborn
From myself
From within
But this ingrained
Trained behaviour
Seems embedded in my brain
I dont camplain
Or wont complain
But should
Not be a slave to the system
To uncontracted duties that demean
Till my dreams become
To distant to recall
And remain unseen
For fear of the fall
Of unimagined consequenses
Where is the choice in this
When the option is
Automatically erased
And the thought censored
And why does my strength vanish
When i need it most
When the suit is boss
My voice is a ghost
And i am lost
In the tension
Between where i am
And where i want to be
Who i am
And who i could be
The longer i stay
The more i know
That i dont belong
In places where ticking of clocks
Are in sync with hearts beats

The next image with it’s vintage feel reminded me of ‘lost worlds’, the times that have gone and it’s nice to remember them too.

My First Pearls by © jacqleen

My First Pearls by © jacqleen

I couldn’t resist this poem by Kristin. There’s something so timeless about it and I am still thinking about what it all means.

Of a Wingless Bird by © Kristin Reynolds

I do not remember you;
I am like a thousand feathers
each flying in the other direction.

Nothing is relative here.

Here, relativity grows cherubs
like rain keeps on bringing
heaven new pails of tears.

Everyday
is thousands of days
all in the span of one breath—
the same time it takes
to erect a new galaxy
in the belly
of a miracle man.

I walk to the garden
a dirty orchid—
hands covering my face;
I run from the willow,
a grove:

when sun sets its eye
upon the earth,
all it sees
is love.

There is a radio tower
of fluted glass
riding the top of my
TO DO LIST;
it is filled
with two thousand wings
trying to make sense
of the moon—

while each wingless bird
holds their tongues in place
with rich golden apples;

while Polaris makes a nest
in the watchtower
made of hummingbird down.

Sometimes I see
all of this happening,
and whistle a tune in the dark—

until the bodiless feathers
are still,

and the apples
rise up
to the top.

This image caught my eye because the colours and composition are arresting. Another world… one gone mad and possibly bad.

Enfant terrible! by © FilleDeLEau

Enfant terrible! by © FilleDeLEau

And here’s the perfect match in Rhonda’s poetry…

Don’t You Say I Told You So by © restlessd

I think back on those past times.
I know I did commit those crimes.
They were so very long ago.
I’ve served my time, please let them go.

Yet you still hold them in front of me.
No day goes by where you see just me.
In your eyes I am not true.
I’ll never be good enough for you.

It is as if I am still jailed.
My heart & soul have been impaled.
My wounds did heal but left a scar,
A constant reminder is what you are.

Can we ever just start over?
Can I stop looking over my shoulder?
Will we ever let the past be gone?
Won’t you let me forget my wrongs?

You smile that smile I know says NO.
In your eyes the scorn does show.
In your heart you won’t let go.
Don’t you say I told you so.
I have to leave now, I must go.
Don’t you say I told you so.

The next image is about the people that make our world and help us ‘hold it together’. I’ve loved this image since it first appeared in my image stream.

If I had no place to fall by © madworld

If I had no place to fall by © madworld

Here’s a different kind of world, a world where wishes might come true and I haven’t quite decided if this would be a good world to be in or not. See what you think….

My Wish For You by © Tracy Faught

I wish for you to feel my presence when I’m not there, like a blanket that wraps you up in a sweet heat.
I wish you dreams of joy that I have renderd by once whispering into your ear,long ago.

I wish for the forgetfulness of your pain and a rememberance of me when something makes you smile. I wish for your mouth to water when the thought of a kiss can bring back your passion, and the recovery of the taste of me on your lips.

I wish for your dreams to be kind and that the lover in them is me, even when your with another, I wish for you to not forget the feel of all that is my body…I wish for you not to compare the sensation aloud, but to relish it’s memory, silently, deeply, sinfully, exquisitley…all to yourself so that I’m with with you unkown to whomever your loving.
I wish omnipotence over all your carnal knowledge. I wish to be all your sins when I’m not around.

I wish to be held in your hand, and touched in memory. I wish to be the salt you lick away from the efforts of love, the concentration of thought and the daily grind of life.
I wish to be the sweat that rolls off your lip, caught by your tongue.

I wish to be the button always pushed that can make your heart race and the sensation that makes your body yearn, I want to be the pleasurable pain you feel when your begging for release.
I wish to be the memory that haunts you, causing you to wonder why…why did all that pass away?

I wish to not be forgotten, so I send these wish’s out as a dark prayer every night, from the depths of my bed, cold and deep. I wish for you to hear my voice from so far away. I won’t be any more forgotten than I already am, and if my wishes are granted, than I never could be.

I just couldn’t resist this image. I love the depth of colour and the subject.

Love Hurts (Like Hell) by © strawberries

Love Hurts (Like Hell) by © strawberries

Nikki’s poem shows the kind of hurt and pain we go through in those worlds that no one sees…

Doldrums Drams and Drudgery by © Nikki Ella Whitlock

Enough enough doldrums drams, and drudgery, my limbs are heavy with non-compliance, And my mind is bursting it seems, with words and images, its composed calmness a folio of offloading, I overflow, I navigate winding worm holes throughout life’s general mishmash, “it’s a mixed bag” they say “and the spice of life” but there’s no heavy petting, keep you head down, and cleverly disguise your misdemeanours in labels, groups and genres, an assemblage of misfits are we, enough enough, I’m so weary.

Enough enough sighs, shams and spitfires, this mortal needs peace, just a small a piece of land to twirl and sing with conviction, I’m occupied with the woods and rivers and I can no longer contain myself in, brick, metal and wire, society’s heavy bulkhead of fortification, sucking the air. Terra firma calls me, claiming my lungs and loins with spores and pollen, planting seeds in my mind and womb, its blissful abandonment. Social order is in disarray, and I’m going under, I rage, I rampage, quietly, on the face of things, a smile for a while, it appears to be slipping, enough enough I’m fading.

Enough enough, vandals, voids and vampires, they suck drain and bewilder, leaving me broken, forlorn and empty, I’m fighting for who I am, but not sure what that is yet, the only sense I make, is a breeze on a tree, it whispers to me, “come home”, I have a burning in the heart of me, that matter doesn’t matters, it just expresses who resides inside, we are socially chastised and constrained and I yearn for pastures new, lush greens, burnt umbers and soft mellow, it travels to the eye so swift and calms the psyche, leaving self behind, a friend in kind and comfort, enough enough no more I’m already gone…

But back to life and what it can be and should be when you’re starting out. Again, a vintage feel but with a totally different look and seemingly a different world altogether.

Remember Paris …. by © Berns

Remember Paris …. by © Berns

Finally, this poem by lovelyrita. Worlds colliding? Justice? Revenge? I am not sure. I just know I loved it when I read it, there’s something compelling about it that makes you think and wonder…

Peek-A-Boo by © lovelyrita

I see you
you’re off in the water,
in your boat fashioned of lies

I see you
bobbing
up and down
each wave a new surprise

I see you
headed for an iceberg,
a cold, hard
bitch

I see you
one hand on the life preserver,
the other on your itch

I see you
stranded in the sea
but you don’t see me.

I hope you enjoyed these Sunday features and congratulate all the lovely artists without whom RB wouldn’t be what it is. 🙂

Anna and Sybille xoxo


Midweek Features – 26/01/2011 – Just because

Today’s features are ‘just because’ as there’s no theme. The art and writing just caught my eye and so here they are. 🙂

There’s something special about this image. I love the colours and the delicacy of the lines and textures, but also the subject – the masks we wear…

masquerade, 2008 by © Thelma Van Rensburg

masquerade, 2008 by © Thelma Van Rensburg

and the secrets we keep. I love the way the poem reaches out. Sometimes poetry really is the only way to express those feelings we have to hide from plain sight.

Secrets by © lisameryl

If you knew how much I care
longing to confess everything
there’s so much I want to share

I can never speak your name
nor the feelings in my heart
aware you’ll never feel the same

It’s far from love yet
you and I are dear friends
for we’ve recently just met

I feel a deep connection
my soul is drawn to yours
I’m filled with much affection

You’re on my mind everyday
to hold and kiss you
would be like Christmas in May

I’m aware we’ll never be more
but with every passing moment
these feelings burn me to the core

I may be strong and brave
but there are some secrets
one must take to the grave

The bright colours and the flow of this painting just caught my eye.

Destiny by © Ming Myaskovsky

Destiny by © Ming Myaskovsky

I love the sensuality of this poem, the ebb and flow and somehow Ming’s painting and PJ’s poem seem to flow together…

lunar tides by © ShadowDancer

when the suns gold
gives its last flash
across our bed,
like a nuclear bomb
in reverse,
the moon stands above us,
white luna holding heaven together
supporting the sky,

you loom above me
dark over light

my body is your moon
holding heaven inside of us

night begins as
your body crashes slowly
into me,
my luna spirit
hearkening your deep ocean

I beg for you to unleash
a thousand floods inside of me
drown the world
drown us
drown me

with you
I am no longer
impenetrable
your waters move
in rhythm to my heartbeat
and sink the ghosts ships
that were clinging to my skin

your ocean is the pulse
of my silent pull

and as your tidal wave dissipates,
there is now a calming,
my moon sinks into its own horizon…
we drift together
into the sky, across the earth

you rest into me
dark over light

Okay, this is a bit of a turn to the ‘other side’, however life and death lie close together…

Marie-Antoinette’s Nightmare by © VenusOak

and another turn about, from nightmares to dreams we cherish. I certainly have had dreams like that.

I Wish I May, I Wish I Might….. by © LauraBroussard

I wish I may,
I wish I might,
have the dream,
I dreamt last night.

Deep, deep sleep,
which carries me over….
to a place of unknown wonders.

I wish I may,
I wish I might,
have the dream,
I dreamt last night.

Flying through the air,
pulsing my arms,
to go up there.

I wish I may,
I wish I might,
have the dream,
I dreamt last night.

Kissing that person,
strange as it seems,
oh well,…….
it was just a dream.

I wish I may,
I wish I might,
have the dream,
I dreamt last night.

Beneath me now,
a world.
Beneath me now,
a new world………………..

I wish I may,
I wish I might,
have the dream,
I dreamt last night :))

From nightmares and dreams to the way we see ourselves. I find self portraits fascinating, especially in a group like ours. It’s so interesting to see the way we view ourselves – the things we have in common and the things we don’t – and this is a particulalry beautiful image.

Untitled by © Cate Legnoverde

Untitled by © Cate Legnoverde

LovelyRita’s poem is a self portrait in the form of a poem. It caught my eye because it was so honest and true and we all struggle with the way we change towards age. How odd it is to see the outside change, when inside we’re still the way we were and then we look in the mirror and we feel we don’t recognise the person looking back… and then there’s the issue of the way woman are potraited in the media… don’t get me started!

White Girl by © lovelyrita

I am white like her
But my nose is longer
My flaws are more defined
Far more circles than lines

My figure is a maze
Too rough to finish –
Even gaze at
Unlike her streamlined form
She’s perfect weather, I’m a storm
I know this

I am white like her
But not as bright as her
I have brown hair too
And my eyes are blue
But her hair is silk and fine
Nothing like mine
which is coarse
and short
and breaking
resembling my lifeline
gradually flaking off,
unlike the creases below my eyes

She has none, of course

And no matter how I try
I will never look like her

This image caught my eye immediately when it appeared in my image stream, it impressed me so much I asked Jacqleen to submit it to the group. There’s something so ‘wild’ for want of a better word, something so raw about it… deeply touching.

Filth.. by © jacqleen

Shar’s poem just fits the feeling in the image perfectly. Some peope indeed…

Provoked by © autumnwind

unleashed once more
your bitter acerbic insolence
warp and sabotage
the integrity of good intent

you linger way too long
upon the self indulgent
banal enhancement
of your own delusional ego

are you not aware
of the wall
you have so steadfastly erected?

my anger turns to pity
I see the true colors
of which your eyes have been deprived

it is YOU
the handicapped
despite your perfect mind and body

it is YOU
the afflicted
despite your exemplary life

you cannot see
beyond your fabricated barricade
you cannot swim the moat
polluted with the excrement of your
thoughtless, self-serving
self absorbed uncharitable convictions

you make me scream in silence

Finally, Helene’s strong image about what a ‘man’s world’ has done to the world…

Capicu! by © helene ruiz

Capicu! by © helene ruiz

… and MoonSpiral rediscovering her writing roots. I am glad she did. 🙂

Chasing the Mystery by © MoonSpiral

Tonight I’m reading Milton and Keats,
Eliot and Yeats,
trying to siphon off the secret.
No one else has dreamed of it.
I know it’s there….
somewhere,
hidden in plain sight.
This is my elevated goal tonight.

I must find the mystery.
Unravel it to shreds.
I will make it old and weary,
until the mystery is dead.

Bleary-eyed hunger
sinking into my root.
I am beginning to wonder
if it was that religious fruit
that soured me to what I have become.
Half ready to be numb.
Half ready to be alive.

“But why?”
said the little beetle
rolling around on my chest.
He is now completely fetal.
It happens to the best.

And the un-rational
are so full of passion.
While the wise no longer
stand at attention.

It makes no sense.
It was never meant to.
That is the mystery.

But I digress
into memories of you.
It is a wretched reverie.

I am losing sight of my goal.
My dreams are even less drastic,
somewhat similar to plastic.

So we wave our white flags
of surrender.
While screaming at those
who remember.

I am older than I was.
And soon,
it will again be September.
And the moon,
so full and luminous,
will wane once more.

Where do I go?
Now that my neck is sore
and my eyes are dry
and reddened.

I could just go to bed.
Try again tomorrow
and tomorrow…
and tomorrow…

Chasing the mystery
into the halls of joy
and the seas
of sorrow.

I hope you enjoy these ‘Just because’ features. 🙂