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For dVerse Poetics: Sunday 8/28/2011 Prompt: Third Eye Open: Good and Evil
August 29, 2011
The Aura of Good and Evil
Can you feel what I feel,
the aura of good or evil ?
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Can you feel confident
of the love of the good in people?
Knowing deep down you can trust
your first born or aging parent with them?
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Can you trust that feeling
of terror or fear in the room and in your heart
leading to the man
your friend is so in love with and plans to marry ?
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The gift of feeling another’s aura
is an awesome responsibility.
Knowing when to trust your gut,
when to act, or not is another.
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When you are right on the gift of love,
it is hard not to gloat and pat yourself on the back.
The same with evil…
“I told you so” on the bitten tongue,
can it stay there for ever and ever ?
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Can you accept when you are wrong,
and spoke too soon,
or when you were right and didn’t speak
and disaster struck ?
.
Can you feel what I feel,
the aura of good or evil ?
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Acrylic 6″ h x 12″ w,
The day was bright, sunny and breezy.
To me this looks cold and brisk now.
Private collection — with Sorrento, ME, Vagabonds, Plein Aire Group and Cataract Painting.
7/2010
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Have You Seen…
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Have you seen
my “Helen Keller” paintings?
They are called that because
back in the day you could
tell without seeing,
by touch,
what the painting is.
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These days,
my paintings are more
subtle,
but still
rough and bumpy,
palette knives and fingers,
forming visions of
waves, froth, mountains,
rocks and sand.
.
Sometimes a surface
gives paint
a mind of its own,
rough or bumpy,
scratchy or
slick as satin.
.
Come see my paintings
where brush strokes
and knife marks rule.
On rough canvas,
wood
or slick, slippery plastic.
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Enjoy the feel of a
painting,
sometimes it’s a mood,
touching the heart
or soul;
sometimes a touch,
the artist made strokes
creating images
and feelings
only you know where
they come from.
Feelings.
.
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Downtown Ellsworth, a historic theater, two blocks both side of shops and offices.
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A different view of the view of Mount Desert Island that people pay so much to see either with summer homes or visiting.
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The view
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Cities
.
Large and small,
I would think that
most would think of
big cities with
huge buildings and
lots of stores and
restaurants.
.
My city,
Ellsworth, Maine,
has 7,000 +
people.
two blocks of downtown,
and the big boxes at the
edge of two small malls.
.
It is called the
Crossroads of Downeast Maine,
because you have to go thru
here to go anywhere “there”.
One has to ignore…
if you know the way,
the strip of stores
that I fear will string
from Bangor to Bar Harbor
one day,
right thru my tiny city
by the ocean.
.
I have tasted the
“real” cities
that people speak of,
that I long to visit,
and then come back
to my tiny city by
the ocean.
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My life living on the
outskirts of Tokyo
and Yokohama,
was a fantasy life,
unusual houses,
a view of Mt Fuji
from my driveway.
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Stores with signs
I couldn’t read,
with foods I wasn’t
supposed to buy.
Kimonos,
black lacquer ware,
tatami’s
and brocades.
.
Medieval castles
from long ago,
samueri and emperors,
sumo wrestlers,
Geisha’s and warlords
memories of the past.
.
Modern day
adults and children
celebrate
special days and holidays,
visiting the temples
in their finest
visiting the temples
reminders of the past.
.
Old San Juan
was much the same,
El Morro Castle
and a trip to the past,
as one walks thru
the cobble stone streets.
The narrow streets,
wrought iron fences,
adorned with flowers,
BUT
I must admit,
my favorite memory
was my visit to
the Bacardi factory,
the day the bottler
thru bottles
everywhere !
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The Rain Forest,
with a giant waterfall,
lush greenery,
pristine beaches with
palm trees
and flowers I’d only
seen in photos
before.
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I dream of trips to
Paris,
to Amsterdam,
to Greece
and
Tuscany.
Then back
to my little city
by the ocean.
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photos: Saradunn 2011
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For dVerse….A Ghazal: Of Men and Women
August 12, 2011
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That the ages of man, women, children, repeat themselves, terrify.
that no matter what the century, the ages of ones life identify.
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It’s the worse of times, it’s the end of the human race, is the cry,
as the scholars gather and try to organize, notate and identify.
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The teenagers are going to hell, the throngs of parents and preachers speechify.
Teachers, physicians elders say they can thru the ages they know and identify.
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At the point of no return, the adults find that they can exemplify,
the growth of virtues, ethics, moral compass that all can identify.
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Elders look back, see the ages repeat themselves, as men and women magnify:
the world has changed SIGnificantly, making sure it is something we identify.
photo: free use image
(c) 2012 Saradunn
dVerse: poetics- Giorgio de Chirico
August 6, 2011
..
dVerse poetics-
Giorgio de Chirico
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Artists paint
to their own muse.
the mind obsessed
by visions
known
only to them
real
or imagined
where others
fear to
tread.
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Paris.
Picasso.
What sights of Paris
in the company
of one so great
twirled thru your mind
and palette
that only another artist
or your heart
and soul
would understand.
.
Your street scenes
strike my fancy.
The choice of
objects that connected
to your thoughts,
that makes sense to me,
because you used
your gut,
your instincts
to paint what amused
you,
not the common folk.
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Whistful
and fanciful
paintings
of places no man
will ever go…
why do people
criticize
places in the mind
that they
will never know.
.
Artists
paint to their own
muse.
Visions,
Fantasies,
colors
and places
unknown
to the everyday
man.
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These were the Birkies like I wore to work. I like this style because they were slip on and off
Yaktrax and Birkies for dVerse Poem on Shoes 7/23/2011
July 23, 2011
dVerse Poem: Shoes…
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Yaktrax and Birkies
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Barefoot…
my favorite mode
for my feet
of all ages,
but you can tell my life story
by the shoes I wore.
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Booties,
high tops,
walking shoes.
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Buster brown’s.
Mary Janes,
and “tennies”.
Shoes with straps and laces.
.
Ice skates, overshoe boots
boots with zippers
for winter,
standard wear.
(anyone remember the
“fur” on boots that left it’s
nasty mark?)
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Penny loafers.
Shiney black tap shoes
with ribbons to tie.
White bucks,
Saddle shoes
and flats.
Cleats and taps
added to shoes
to drive the grown-ups
crazy.
Tap, tap
on wooden floors
of the school
and home,
and sidewalks
of the city.
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But
I do remember
jitterbugging
was best shoeless in nylons
or flats that let
one fly on the
dance floor.
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A memory here of
“Pilgrim shoes”
as my father called them:
fashionable
widely squared at the tip
of my toes,
big square metal buckles…
I loved them,
Dad hated them
and never forgot them
til the day he died.
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Red shoes
Blue shoes
polished to a glow.
Patent leather shoes,
Spike heels
with steel tips, …
even matching “spectator pumps”
for that special blue and white suit.
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Slip ons for when my
arms didn’t reach the floor
and I couldn’t see my feet.
Laces gone with swelling legs,
ankles and feet and toes
but for twice in my life,
I didn’t yearn for
beauty and grace
for my feet.
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Espadrilles
in pretty colors,
Military-style dress shoes…
practical, high heels not so dangerous
but still found in
shiny milk chocolate Patent leather,
black patent leather with buckles
and bows
and other adornments.
Earth shoes for
Nursing shoes.
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Birkenstocks…
for work,
for play,
for dress,
Winter, spring, summer
and fall,
Tan suede Birkie style
for work…
smelling of garlic…
after a balancing act
proved haste makes waste.☺.
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I learned of loss
and grieving
with a sprain
that proved life changing…
and now it is,
before it’s time:
Common sense shoes.
Sandals with straps for safety.
“Yaktrax” on my shoes in the winter
along with spikes on my canes
to keep from falling.
No more
snappy heels,
pretty pumps,
or flats,
that match each dress
or outfit.
Now it is a cane to match
the clothes
that shoes easily
once lifted my spirits
as I headed out
to work and
play.
.
But I am,
Barefoot forever
when ever I can !
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© Sigrid Saradunn 2013
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The Game of Life in 3 Verses
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The game of Life and how to play it
Life strategies, doing what works,
doing what matters.
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The five people you meet in heaven:
Women my husband married
The Gernsey Literary
and Potato Peel Pie Society
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Stop the insanity
String too short to be saved.
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These books were gathered
at the librarians returns desk
and a group of books
for a fund raising sale.
Most of the books look like
they were donated
by one person
in the pile I found in a chair
next to where I was sitting
.painting with my artist
group.
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Cat 2 Hurricane Irene
2005
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Old Irene, goodnight
.
wreaked havoc before sleeping
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long life ~ one dead
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original haiku
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Old Irene, goodnight
wreaked havoc before sleeping
many dead/much loss
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updated on 3/5/2021 to long life ~ one dead
added photo and year(2005)
My friend Jennefer last Friday gave a eulogy for a second younger sister. There were three sisters, all having names starting with “J” and they were called J 1, J 2, J 3. Jennefer is J 1. I was a toddler when my sister died so I do not have any way to relate to her grief, except it must be very lonely and grief filled. The title came because she loves rainbows….and I did a painting recently of a double rainbow she caught in a photo.
Some day I’ll write a longer piece about why we sign our names to each other Jfef, for Jeff, her nickname, and Sgigi for Siggi, my nickname.
Wow, all I can say is truly awesome, really, I am without words. It just so fits. And my eyes are leaking but…/w a smile…rainbow tears, you know. thank-you. That means a lot. I’m going to frame it.. And it makes me feel better, I think she just had such a struggle these past couple of years/w anger, sadness and anxiety and health that I just wish she had let us help. That’s what makes me sad. A truly wonderful gift from a truly wonderful friend.
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RAINBOW TEARS
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3 J’s
remember
siggiofmaine 