I didn’t think to ask this young woman’s name, but I very much enjoyed her performance at the Jardin Restaurant in the Ajijic (Mexico) Plaza. I pronounce her to be the Mexican Janis Joplin. See what you think. Click on the link below:
Hibiscus altered by LunaPic Art Filters plus “Original Color” and Mac Photos App. Looks a bit Van Gogh-ish now, I think.
For Cee’s FOTD
Nativity Diary
I’m curled inside, so soft and warm,
protected in my creator’s corm.
Within, without, the pulse and throb
of leg on stomach, thrusting knob
of head against that source of light
down a channel smothering tight.
I will I must continue toward
that severance of birthing cord.
A final push, a hearty cry,
one eye open, a glimpse of sky.
Helping hands receiving me,
head and shoulder, thigh and knee.
The miracle of freedom from
such tight compression. My questing thumb.
Curled into that outer nest
that has been my nine-month quest.
Swathed in warmth, bright lights above,
I take great drafts of mother love.
She wills and I agree I will
drink until I’ve had my fill.
Pursing lips and searching tongue,
and then a healthy burst of lung.
I declare my presence here
to the whole world’s atmosphere.
The prompt for day 14 of NaPoWriMo was to write the opening scene of the movie of our life.
Image by Christine Bowen on Unsplash.
Moon Pie
When the moon is full
and everything ripe on the vine
I must have pie
juicy running from the crisp crust
vanilla ice cream clouding its surface like clouds over the moon.
I bite into the piece like a slice of the moon..
like swiss cheese on apple pie.
slice of the moon.
moon pie.
The prompt for NaPoWriMo today is to write a poem that, like the example poem here, joyfully states that “Everything is Going to Be Amazing.” Sometimes, good fortune can seem impossibly distant, but even if you can’t drum up the enthusiasm to write yourself a riotous pep-talk, perhaps you can muse on the possibility of good things coming down the track. As they say, “the sun will come up tomorrow,” and if nothing else, this world offers us the persistent possibility of surprise. What cheers one up like a slice of moon pie?
Image by Deborah Rainford on Unsplash.
This art print of Antonio Lopez Vega inspired the piece above. She is feeding the birds and in turn they bring her a message in the beak of the bird to the left. Wheat from my father’s last harvest spills from the hand formed copper bowl from Santa Clara del Cobre. A copper plate holds a loaf of bread and a halved avocado. Copper leaf in the background surrounds the woman and completes the theme.
This is one of a number of my retablos still on view at the studio of Jesus Lopez Vega, at the junction of Rio Zula/Rio Brava and Ocampo, a half block south of Casa Linda Restaurant in Ajijic. Open M-F until April 30.
Please click on photos to enlarge.
I was sleeping so well when Mom woke me up at 3 a.m. to put me outside so she could go pick her cousin Kirk up at the airport in Guad. She put me outside in my “safe” zone and finally got home around 5 or 6 a.m. She introduced us and of course he became “mine” immediately. He tastes pretty good! She fed him (but not me.) She and Kirk were still pretty peppy even after 24 hours with no sleep, but not as peppy as I was. The first ten minutes Kirk was here, I made off with one of his heavy sneakers and made it to Mom’s room with it in record time. Here I am resting easily with Ollie at 11 this morning. I’m still sleeping at 1:30. I think Mom got two hours sleep if she was lucky. She’s lying in bed writing this post, but chances are she’ll be having a catnap in the hammock later today.
Misnomer
Why so taciturn, my friend? Are there things that displease you?
If you’re amenable to chat, perhaps I could appease you.
When they named you Deirdre, what could have been the reason?
To give a child a moniker like this is surely treason.
They put it on the record the day that you were born
that you were predetermined with propensity to mourn.
What sort of security is this to give a child
otherwise unblemished—beautiful and mild?
Such a tragic future and so many doleful morrows
must greet a child named after Deirdre of the Sorrows.
Prompts today are security, amenable, taciturn, moniker and record.
Mirror Image
She’s a dingy sort of doppelganger, lackluster and fretful,
and when I’ve caught a glimpse of her, she seems to be forgetful.
She looks surprised to see me and although it should be magic,
when she catches sight of me, it seems she finds it tragic.
It’s a shame she never catches me when I am at my peak,
and so I seem to be an image that she’d like to tweak.
We both look in the mirror and we don’t like what we see,
the irony of that being that both of us are me!!
Prompt words today are doppelganger, tragic, forgetful, dingy and peak.
About the assemblage:
“After Picasso: Self-examination”
The watch part that serves as the womb to the woman beats with the pulse beat of the child within, whereas the mirror reflection contains no moving parts. An antique “Tabu” powder tin is imprisoned in an old pocket watch case. A tiny portrait of a woman is framed by one of the watch parts that make up the rest of this collage.
Tiny Obsession
I like things in miniature—
those things more likely to endure.
Tiny cars to put in pockets,
diamond rings and heart-shaped lockets,
fragile wee ceramic dolls
and buttons pulled off overalls,
game pieces and Sunday school pins—
things to fill up drawers and bins.
Bits of lace and fabric swatches,
antique keys and locks off boxes,
seashells and fossils in small sizes,
plastic Crackerjack surprises,
tiny well-formed souvenirs,
caps off foreign-labelled beers,
swizzle sticks and matchbook covers,
love letters from bygone lovers.
What do I do with all this stuff?
Collecting it is not enough.
Accumulation is a bore
if you don’t know what it is for!
The junk that’s stored in my garage
turns into riches in a collage,
where all of these assorted pieces
unite to form a visual thesis.
In jars and boxes, drawers and bowls,
reside future creative goals.
Pick a watch. Rip it apart
and reunite it into art.
Find a theme and work it out.
That act is what it’s all about.
A nasty rumor I must debunk
is that what I collect is junk.
These things from junk stores or from ditches
may be transformed into riches.
In life it’s not what you may start with.
It’s taking those things you don’t part with
and taking necessary measures
to transform them into treasures.
Anything imbued with heart
becomes, in time, a vital part
of what you make of what you may
come across from day to day.
In short, it’s what you’ve filled a life with
that ends up what you build a life with.
The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write an homage to something small.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 