2017, charcoal on paper, all rights reserved.
Posted tagged ‘manicddaily’
Faces of the Moon
August 19, 2017Too Much
August 19, 2017
2017, reading news, charcoal on paper. All rights reserved.
Good Morning!
August 15, 2017
iPad,
ASKetch app, 2017, all rights reserved.
Bird Mask Girl
August 12, 2017
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.
Bird Girl Catches the Worm
August 6, 2017
2017, charcoal on paper, all rights reserved.
Bird Girl at Church
August 6, 2017
2017, charcoal on paper, all rights reserved.
Bird Girl and the Black-eyed Susans
August 6, 2017
2017, charcoal on paper, all rights reserved.
Bird Girl Head Over Heels
August 6, 2017
2017, charcoal on paper, all rights reserved.
Not Morse
August 6, 2017
Not Morse
They spoke in code, each word a secret agent
of another, so that, “I need more time
for myself,’ meant ‘I’m seeing
someone else.’
And so on.
At first, even uttered letters
delighted in the game, dipthongs preening
at devices, consonants peacocking
about the vowels, but soon language stretched
to strain, silence pained.
*******************
55 words for Kerry O’Connor’s prompt on Real Toads, with a special challenge to write something stemming from the art of Erte. A piece on the letter M by Romain de Tirtoff, known as Erté, above.
Wound (Passed Down)
August 5, 2017
Wound (Passed Down)
My mother didn’t know
the contours of her wound
so had to sculpt mine
by feel
as if she were a blind girl
and I were a piano that she heard
by touch,
only that would have been a deaf girl
and she didn’t honestly
touch much.
At a certain point, I took charge
of my own wound,
but since I also worked by feel at first,
its deepening seemed somewhat haphazard
like the chance radio station
the frequencies always
default to.
It was only as I grew older
when I could see it in the mirror
or when I looked down
at my person
that I became conscious of where
I put in the dirk.
****************************
Poem for Margaret Bednar’s lovely quilting challenge on Real Toads. Not sure this exactly fits but what I have. The above an image from fabric saved by Margaret. Process note: dirk is a small knife (probably more properly a small dagger of Scottish Highland origin.)
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