Worried Face Tree

Posted September 4, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: Uncategorized

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Charcoal on paper, 2017, all rights reserved.

Grateful

Posted September 3, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry

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Grateful

She woke between pained breaths and said,
“they’ve all
crossed over.”

So, after soothing her shock
of white bang back,
we hurried to measure
the morphine,
pretty sure she would not try to get up
like she did the day before, anxious
to meet them,
but not certain,

“sweetheart,” saying, as we nosed the syringe into
the inside of the downward-tilted
cheek, then smoothed squeezed balm
over desert lips, “sweetheart,”
caressing back
that shock of hair again

until I lay down beside her at last
to listen to the full
and hollow,
not breathing myself
in some of the pauses.

So a good death goes,
and comes,
oh sweetheart.

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Poem for my mother. 

Long Worn Bird Mask

Posted August 25, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: drawings

Charcoal on paper, 2017, all rights reserved.
Other titles– “Help maybe.”

What Does It Want?

Posted August 22, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized

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What does it want?

There is a part of me that can’t shake
sadness;
that hears the rise of the mourning dove
as fall;
that substitutes for throat
but will not be slaked–

What does it want– this ache?

For everything that’s been
to have been
all right.

To lay down upon a lap
as if it were a head
that might be stroked.

To not be a head
that is thinking, thinking,
but a body of that water
that laps gently
and doesn’t churn.

And to have you, my sometimes world,
hold me 
in earthen arms.

In the reeds that grow about us,
red-winged blackbirds nest;
just above, swallows swallow.

 

 

****************
Poem for open link platform on Real Toads (http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com)

Drawing is mine.  It’s a bit more complicated than I’d like, ha.

Simply the way it was (Eclipse of sorts)

Posted August 20, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized

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Simply the way it was (Eclipse of sorts)

At a certain point, she even felt the trees longing
to hold the child she carried,
the sky scrying to espy
the color of his eyes;
all of Nature, she felt sure,
yearned with her
to meet him,
though after he was born,
she kept him close as bark
for some time, letting not wind nor glare make
their acquaintance, any leaving
out of the question,
and whether Nature was peeved
was too complicated a thing
for her to think about, there with the new son
at her side.

 

*****************

For a prompt by the wonderful Kerry O’ Connor on Real Toads to write about a simple  thing.  I should note that this poem is imagined–not meant to express anything about boy or girl babies–I’ve only been thinking about the sun a bit what with the eclipse.

Drawing is mine–pastels and charcoal on paper, 2017.  All rights reserved. 

Mountainside

Posted August 20, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: drawings

Tags: ,

2017, charcoal on paper, all rights reserved. 

Faces of the Moon

Posted August 19, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: drawings

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2017, charcoal on paper, all rights reserved. 

Too Much 

Posted August 19, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: drawings

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2017, reading news, charcoal on paper.  All rights reserved. 

Good Morning!

Posted August 15, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: drawings

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iPad, 

ASKetch app, 2017, all rights reserved. 

Bird Mask Girl

Posted August 12, 2017 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized

Tags: , , ,

Bird Mask Girl

She only feels like drawing bird mask girls
lately, knowing more about beaks
than wings,
only what really is at issue is
the mouth.

The bird mask girls don’t have one,
the mask a closed construct
except for the slits the girls’ lashes
flutter against.

Why do we do what we do?

The bird mask girls wear
puffed sleeves.
These are arguably shaped like cumulous clouds
but are small and tethered to what is drawn
as clothes.

She is not conscious in this culture of ever wearing a bird mask.
It seems to her that the one she has perfected has a smile
and teeth that manage to look fairly white
against the lipstick, lipstick not at all like the sticks
birds perch upon
in air or sky, even barred sky.

The strings that hold the masks in place
are tied with bows
in the back.

 

***************************

For Magaly Guerero’s prompt on Real Toads to write a poem based on one’s own prior work.  I am slightly varying the prompt to write the poem about one of my past drawings (instead of an old poem) although I have also been about an old poem about posturing.