Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Planting Memories

 I'm working on items for the Art Walk, next month.   I decided to make some seed pouches.  This one represents an Iroquois legend about three sisters.  I  had fun sharing this legend, with my mom.  She is one of three sisters.   My mom's love of gardening transformed me.  I was always fond of all she grew and helped her, but the love of gardening didn't take hold, till after my son was born.  I thought it might be fun to write a poem about this legend.  It is about the concept of companion planting.  

Kim over at Poets United asked us to write a poem about passion.  I thought of many ideas,  but as I was working on my art-this idea started to bloom.   ;D  



Morning fringe tickles velvet green leaves
birds whirl in great eagle's sky
as pearls of white n' gold whisper
promises like seductive stars


Great crow planted first seed 
scattered spirit with Aurora's embrace 
luminous light bloomed like golden rain
as Luna Moth danced in midnight's glory


Sky woman hugs turtle
as river of green song caresses the shadows
the veil of night swings and climbs
as starlight floats in arcs
of rippling blue light
reminders of morning star's birth


Echo of spirits in day's breath
like fluttered wings they
nourish n' protect
scattered clouds cry of
past ceremonies
like clay dust settling
when pounding rain dances 


Seven sisters watch
as black forest settles
Mother Nature's luminous eye winks
hope grows
as vines of trumpets charm
Rattlesnakes
climb as the flames of day
wake.


© Ellen Wilson


















 




Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Wacked


I thought of all of you on Sunday, when I was trapped in my vehicle for a few hours, due to a four car pile up on a bridge.  I had this nagging feeling right before it happened to get off the highway.  Get off the highway, now!  


Why would I do that?  My family is up ahead in our daughter's new Chevy Malibu.  We had driven up to a Navy guy's house, about an hour away to purchase a second hand, decent vehicle for our teenage daughter.  Now, get off this exit-do it!  


What the hell, I don't have time to tell them.  How do I explain-I decided not to follow you, Don,  because my voice told me to just take exit 11, to Portsmouth.   I didn't get off, but then I got scared.  When I was in college,  I didn't  listen to my intuition and was in a car accident.  The voice came too fast.   I didn't have time to cross three lines of traffic and exit right.  So, I sat in a ten mile traffic jam.  Both sides of the road backed up for miles.  Four cars on a bridge need to be towed. Hubby used his iPhone to get online to see the bridge camera.  He txted me:

  
Hubby txt:           4 car accident both sides of road blocked.
My txt:                 whoa, hope no one died or is serious
                        
Daughter txt:        hope no one died    glad I didn't drive
My txt:                 glad u didn't-


I call hubby:       "I see people are getting out to smoke, now that it isn't raining.  How does Miss A like her car?"   I thought it was sleeting earlier. Did you see it?

                          "She likes it, but I don't like the brakes. . I am glad she didn't drive. I offered.  There are a few other things I will tweak.  I might fix it up and trade it.  Yes, it was sleeting. Crazy weather."

                           "I told her she shouldn't, no place to drive a vehicle that she hasn't handled.  Glad she listened to me."

                             "Yes, the brakes are not anti-lock. I don't think it is the car, for her."

                             "You didn't know about the brakes?"

                              "No, I didn't."

                              "You know I had a feeling to get off exit 11, but I didn't have time to tell you."

                              "Yes, witchie poo"

                              "You know better-I'm serious.  Remember the Common Ground Fair, when I got that killer headache and I told mom we couldn't go.  I felt so bad being her birthday and all."

                              "Yes, I remember....the fatal car crash, at the same time you would of been going out there.   I know and the time you told me not to fly, and the time the mail lady came back to our house and you almost chased her on your bike.  Because you knew she had your package."

                              " Well, she did, didn't she!  I didn't have a headache then.  Maybe only when it is bad."

                              "No witch,  it is sinus, not psychic."
              
                               "My song is on-bye!"



Hubby txt:              car 3 towed, l left 
My txt:                    good      Headache back
Hubby txt:              Tylenol n console    any bad feelings
Me txt:                    took 3    NO!




How am I going to sit still?   I feel anxious and jumpy.  I have my iPad-I start reading and realized it is the Skinny Cap from Starbucks,  has kicked in.  

Daughter txts me:    what's up 

Txt back:                  I'm popping tags

Daughter txt:            lol  car is pretty cool, i like

Txt back:                   yes it is    LU xo


 I start rocking out.  My rocking out means drumming. I'm always drumming n' singing...okay wailing a tune.  The car is steamed up and then it dawns on me.  Am I being watched?  Cars are on one side.  We had narrowed down to two lanes, but what does a middle aged woman, with long black hair look like bouncing in her seat and drumming the dash?  An ADD crackhead?  A woman who drank too much caffeine, to kill another sinus headache?!   What would my followers think if they saw such a site?  Would they think this is a story?  Why doesn't that woman act her age?  Would they laugh, would they be rocking or would they sit in quiet stillness and write or text notes.    I thought of you and started writing.   I wish I was home on my couch.  Damn my head hurts.  I hope no one died or is seriously hurt.  I am happy my daughter didn't drive.  I wish I had listened to my inner voice! 

I didn't listen to my voice in college. I went to the mall and got hit by a sports car. It was winter in New England and I had cabin fever.  Black ice and reckless speeding were the cause, no not me. Some idiot who had borrowed his friend's car and totaled it.  He screamed and screamed at me.  I saw lights out of the corner of my eye, but it was too late.  He was going too fast! 

 My voice told me to go down the artistic avenue and now I wonder.  Should I have taken a different path?  I listened to my voice, but  I am not sure which road to take.   Art whispers to me, but I fear I'm not good enough, writing feels like a puzzle,  but my gut says keep going-no matter what.

Do you listen to your voice, or do you grab the wheel, and steer in another direction?      When I get these headaches-my intuition pings me like AOL 's  "you've got mail".   Does your voice ping you?   Maybe my voice is telling me-this is the book I should write?!  


      "Gotta go, I got another Ping."

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Release...

Sherry asked us to write a poem about our inner wild woman.  Sherry's nickname is Wild Woman-she raised a wolf, from a pup.   Sherry asked me, for some art to go with this challenge.  I used photos to recreate altered images. 



"Within every woman
there is a wild and natural creature,
a powerful force,
filled with good instincts,
passionate creativity,
and ageless knowing."


-Clarissa Pinkola Estes



Sherry's challenge:   I’d like to ask you to release your inner wild woman, in whatever way you view that essential Womyn who lives at the center of your being. You know her. You have heard her voice, her quiet wisdom, as she tried to guide you away from danger and onto the path of your personal journey, the journey that is yours alone to make, whether or not you walk it accompanied.





Pale blue sky teases
 as glass doors open
into a snag of elders
young slender trees arch n' bow
hugging the late afternoon sun
fragile wings of hope spiral 
I walk from: tall windows, steel frames, bricks
 and pediments
I run into the long blue
my tortured suit...tears free
remove society's pastry mold 
I run...
from crumbling concrete
n' chatter of grey parrot suits
they preen in bullet proof glass
shards of day stab my brain


I see a green cathedral
arms of bended boughs kneel touch me
their silver light guides
I run into black danger
 padded with pine needles
i feel small in both worlds
my heart flutters
scent of Cedar
anchors me
 rhythm of crickets
comfort
like gently rain

Muffled whispers
in my pine needle cathedral...
promise of danger lingers
in both worlds
black birds should scatter
they don't
they watch me..
as glittering rain falls
I blur into a soft wash of 
layered night
where God's roots speak
to you n' me. 
Are you listening?



© Ellen Wilson







To the dull mind nature is leaden. To the illumined mind
the whole world burns and sparkles with light.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson