Art Show

Today is the opening of the 43rd Annual Appalachian Art Show. I'm hoping to make it to the reception. I had one of my two pieces accepted into the show. I would seriously love it I won a prize or sold it. Wish me luck.

A Lovely Poem

This a lovely poem by Anna Hempstead Branch (1875-1937) I just love it.

Ere the Golden Bowl is Broken
He gathered for His own delight
The sparkling waters of my soul.
A thousand creatures, bubbling bright-
He set me in a golden bowl.
From the deep cisterns of the earth
He bade me up- the shining daughter-
and I am exquiste with mirth,
A brightening and a sunlit water.
The wild, the free, the radiant one,
A happy bubble I did glide.
I poised my sweetness to the sun
And there I sleeked my silver side.
Sometimes I lifted up my head
And globed the moonlight with my hands,
or thin as flying wings I spread
Angelic wildness through the sands.
Then, woven into webs of light,
I breathed, I sighed, I laughed aloud,
And lifting up my pinions bright
I shone in Heaven, a bird-white cloud.
Then did I dance above the mead,
And through the cyrstal fields would run,
And from my scarlet splendors breed
The golden thunders of the sun.
Beneath the whitening stars I flew
And floated moon-like on the breeze,
Or my frail heart was pierced through
With sharp sweet flowers of the trees.
Of giant crags I bear the scars,
And I have swept along the gale,
Such multitudes as are the stars,
My myriad faces rapt and pale.
As savages creatures strong and free
Make wild the jungle of the wood,
The starry powers that sport in me
Habit my silver solitude.
From out my smallness, soft as dew,
That utter fastness, stern and deep,
Terrible meanings look at you
Like visions from the eyes of sleep.
I cannot leap-I cannot run-
I only glimmer, soft and mild,
A limpid water in the sun,
A sparkling and a sunlit child.
What stranger ways shall yet be mine
When I am spilled, you cannot see.
But now you laugh to watch me shine,
And smooth the hidden stars in me.
Lightly you stroke my silver wing-
The folded carrier of my soul.
A soft, a shy, a silent thing,
A water in a golden bowl!

Sorry about the last post. I just needed to vent some.

Caregiving Pains

It never ceases to amaze me how uncaring people can be to caregivers. I mean, we are constantly under stress taking care of a sick loved one, trying to make their lives bearable, while trying to make do for ourselves. Some of us must have full time jobs on top of the caregiving, living pay check to pay check, with never enough to go around to everyone wanting it and are not willing to work with us to keep us out of a hardship. Then if our loved one or, God forbide, ourselves, gets sick-Wham! suddenly everyone wants their money right then, or something breaks down, and we're up s*** creek. Then there is family members who think hey! we have no husband or kids, so we must be available whenever they want us to do something for them, then get pissed if we say we can't. Or if we ask them to help out with the bills so that a parent is not left sitting in a cold dark house. Then there's the people who want to know why we never married or date. Please! Like there's time for that. Or the employers that get huffy if we don't volunteer to work over every day.

I wish people would stay off my case and leave me alone. I am doing the best I can. I don't have hardly any time for myself anymore and my artwork, my writing, my poetry, and my sanity is paying for it.

Barney's Box

Barney loves his box. This is his time out zone.

A mixed media painting I did a while back. I was looking at it the other day and noticed that the writing on the pick paper has the date of December 26th on it. That's my birthday! Like that song "oh, What A Night" says..."oh, what a night. Late December back in '63." My birthday is Dec. 26, 1963. Cool.

Did I Say I Liked Colors?

Did I say I liked colors? These are my mom's crayons. She likes to color when she's bored, but I have to tell her the colors because she is legally blind.