Saturday, March 29, 2014

Flowers in the Garden

In the Imaginary Garden, Margaret encouraged us to write about flowers.  I adore flowers. I have green thumbs-but am related to green fingers.  I nicknamed my mother Miss Rhumpius aka the Lupine Lady, except my mother plants Cosmos in her world.   I was going to write about the glorious Moonflowers-but I have done that a couple of times. My birth month flower is the Lily of the Valley. I love its heady perfume, but in the Zodiac site-Margaret shared with us, I am a Poppy.

Gypsy Spell

 Twirling my papery boho skirt
I taste Sangria
 wind caresses my brown shoulders
plaited velvet green  
hair swings 
 as tonic takes my hand
into the Blackberry night
rain drums new tune
-I sway
away from grey magic arms
missing my golden Evil eye
memory climbs towards
electric blue blanket
gathered charms
enchant my spell
heart shaped roots cling
white dove appears
gliding kite like
I make a wish
as day's essential oil
steeps my soul's tea
"Then lightening strikes
maybe once, maybe twice..."

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Hedgewitch's Turn: Get Listed

Hedge invited us to use symbols in our poetry and gave us a list of words-we must use five words from her  list.  

""Our soul, as our bodyis composed of all elements that have existed in the lineage of our ancestors. The "new" in the individual soul is are combinationinfinitely variedof extremely old components "  - C. G. Jung 

C.G. Jung, frontispiece, 1964 edition, Man and His Symbols
The Challenge: 

“Words are animals, alive with a will of their own”
―C.G. Jung
Now, without any further incursions into the world of psychoanalysis and its complexities and jargon on my part, I'd like us to attempt to dig into the world of mind and symbol, and write about something that comes from 'under the hood' of our conscious thought process. The piece should deal with the world of dreams, the mind,  symbols or the unconscious. It may retell an archetypal myth. It may be about a specific dream. It may be about sanity or madness, or it may explore and focus on any one or more of the symbols shown in these pictures or on a personally meaningful one. 


fragile whispers
curl like leaves
under the chess table
an anchored angel
has dipped her wings
in indigo wine
 I stay afloat
my head bobbing in cool blue velvet
- I jump
cryptic keys like skeleton fingers
drip gray chimes on my brow
inkling-I'm never alone

sinking inward
my wheel moves
married thoughts
spinning oscillated threads
I weave pale pink
edges into my art
the polished mirror
 mocks me-
my collective game.

 Beyond the looking glass
my rain coat drips a puddle of ink
I spin n' twirl
my boundaries fragile
faded Honeysuckle perfume
and Apple Jack tobacco visits
instilled crow eyes lurk
watching my boundaries
 a fragile veil
moves as the cosmic filter opens
ivories are tickled
and play happy boundaries 
  years appear in
-oscillating film clips
a parade of collective smiles, nods and frowns
frozen in sepia petals
my dream floats onto a page
I see dashes and dots
zigzag memories
I stitch golden threads
Cloud People watch
their silver smiles glide
into my day-as I

©Ellen Wilson

Monday, March 24, 2014

Inner Wild

Margaret shared gorgeous photos with us-over in the Garden.   Her photos are visual poetry.  This one reminded me of home.  We had to chose a challenge previously done-Margaret calls it Play It Again.  I chose #3 Sherry's  release your Inner Wild Woman or Man challenge.

Into blue's portal
I twirl my white tulle gown
horizon's arms hug
 my imaginary gray garden

Ribbons of day fussy my muse's hair
illumination yellow paints
my black n' blue corners

I cling towards spirit's message
honoring my path
I focus on blue highway

Magic arrives in wing's whispers
swirling notes of shadows
peck time's worn door

Cautionary wonder bleeds
gold into field of daisies
I pick, pluck
and discover
"right hat on the right head is poetry"

My poem is about how nature inspires me.  I wear it in my mind's eye daily!
This quote I discovered in a book called, A Perfect Fit.  It was a thrift shop find and the quote is from Abby Hedge Coryett, a woman who wrote The New York Times, complaining about big hats.  It made me think about the differences of opinion-and what I love to wear most is my imagination.

Friday, March 21, 2014

Looking for Beauty in My Day

I went to the Dr. this week, for migraines.  I have been having more and more of them lately.  I thought it was the ups n' downs of the barometer, but now not so sure.  I suspect food allergies and  my sinuses. They tested my heart, my circulation, my bone density-it was crazy!  I was just thankful no alien coffin, this time.  I am not a fan of the MRI machine.  I was assured that was for next time-ick!

I was looking at John O' Donohue's books.  What a gift his words are!  This one book in particular got me thinking:  Beauty:  The Invisible Embrace.  Have you read his work?

"Beauty does not linger, it only visits." 

The sun is illuminating my kitchen blinds giving my freshly picked bouquet a line of stripes. Lately, the silhouette of day has been mushroom gray and cloudy-I am craving yellow.  I can't wait for the Forsythia bushes in my neighborhood, to burst open.   I think Dezzy was the one who told me another name for them is Golden Rain.  -Thank you Dezzy!   I tiptoed through the yard to pick these daffodils-which border my neighbor's yard.   

     My daughter received Medicine Cards for her birthday.  They aren't fortune telling cards, but more about signposts in one's life-based on Native American medicine. The help you connect your mind, body and spirit-using animal symbols.   It is like lessons and reminders to honor your spirit and others. My first card was the Grouse, which teaches respect.  It means it is time to spiral inward into the pinwheel of light.   It invites me to walk or dance to reconnect with Mother Nature and says I have been dizzy.  I have been-I have vertigo.   The last card was the Hummingbird, which symbolizes joy.  Hummingbird opens its feathers of the heart.  It says to get ready for a burst of energy and I need beauty and joy.  Soon I will receive a renewal of magic.  She didn't know I was looking at this beauty book.  Daughter did know I was dizzy, but I shuffled the deck  and selected the cards-not her.  There were other odd connections-nothing scary, more reminders of taking care of one's soul.   One card represented gifts-I have been thinking about doing a give away!  

Has spring sprung in your neck of the woods?   Do you have a special love of a certain animal or see a a certain kind, often?   Maybe it is trying to share some wisdom with you.  You can check out this site if you are intrigued, to discover your animal totem.   I hope the sun is shining in you world. If you take the test-let me know which one you are!   I am part Wolf and Deer?!  What about you?

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Jar of HeARTS

Hubby mentioned maybe we should downsize the board games- up in the attic.  I agreed and told him I could find a use for them.   I love Mason Jars and decided to use some of the older game pieces to decorate the lids.  I will be making more, as time allows. Maybe I will sell them?  I am in hopes of moving into my son's old room and making the space mine.   We still need to wash the rug-it is a heavy machine-I can't operate and paint the room.  The color is up in the air still.  Hubby wants white and I don't.  We might resort to flipping a coin.  He wants to stage the room-so we can sell the home in a few years-after daughter finishes college. I told him taupe would be better-but I kinda wanna a pale blue.   (It will need to be painted again, by then.)  He doesn't know I want to wallpaper a wall with poetry-ssshhhh, don't tell!

I wrote a poem attached to these lids-I'll share soon.  Many memories for me-Masterpiece was my favorite game. My neighborhood had a lot of kids.  In the summer, the teens and tweens would have game night- a couple times a week.  When we played this game, we would dress up as oil tycoons, heiress and millionaires.  It was amazing how everyone played their part so well.  The heavy accents alone brought many laughs- when I look at these jar lids-I smile.  One neighbor dressed as Mr. Howell from Gillian's Island, another had a Texan hat, and I wore my mother's long pearls and Sweet Honesty perfume-an Avon perfume targeted for teens. Yes, I think Marilyn was there. Her lips bright red from Cherry Kool-aid.  My mom sold Avon-at the time.  Yes, I was a walking billboard.   It was funny when one of us received the Forgery painting and had to pretend it wasn't.   Someone would yell, "I bet Sweet Honesty is guilty." I often was.

Mom sent me some of my old homework.  I recycled it.  I couldn't use my children's art so decided to create on mine. Virginia Woolf, I will finally get a room of my own.  Pablo, I hope to write poems in green ink like you and my father didn't approve of my artistic endeavors-either.  Vincent,  I always think of you, when I see stars-the shiny silver ones that wink at me in the indigo sky, but also the green ones that I tend and attempt to grow.  

I am working on something for my daughter.  We had a good laugh over this piece.  Oops, sorry dear daughter your eyelashes  look like the feathered end of an arrow and you kinda resemble Lady Gaga.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014


It is the first Wednesday of the month, a time to share our  insecurities or perhaps remind you- we all swim in the same sea of doubt.   Alex Cavanaugh is the founder of the Insecure Writer's Support Group.  You can find out more about us, here.  

Support from others means the world!  Being a creative soul is a difficult dance-a spiral inward and sometimes those we love do not understand our need and desire to create.  I am writing more and more lately, but not sure what it is going to amount to.  Maybe it will just be a page of wet rain-like a damp blanket.  I have dealt with a lot over the past few months and I am still suffering the effects.  I lost my hair in a freak accident-I had to shave my head.  The crazy is I didn't cry.  Jokes were made and people who know my truth call me Sinead and sing the song, Nothing Compares to You.   I went about my day, but it did bother me.  I felt like Sampson when Delilah convinced him to cut his hair.  I felt zapped.  I felt worse when I went in public wearing hats, to hide my misfortune.  Kids pointed, stared at me and whispered, "that lady is bald."  Adults looked at me and  turned away.  They didn't want to think about that.  The other day four men tried to help me when I dropped a jar of nuts on the floor, a  lady let me go ahead of her in the check out line, another lady at the deli gave me her order-mine was the same as hers.  She over heard and said take mine-  I said, "No thank you, I'm fine."   But no one believes me- I try to do the same, open more doors, smile big and be kind, but when I come home I am dizzy with guilt.  I am now doing random acts of kindness daily to ease the burden I feel, but I worry-I might have cancer.  I have a mole, that looked like a butterfly and now looks like a heart with bumps. I called to make an appointment.  I worry my hair will grow back and I will have to shave it again.   I am teased I look like Bieber's aunt.  The swirl of life's dance enters our creativity no matter what.  I have tried to rise above this, but sometimes I feel sad.  I am creating more art, writing more poems, but I question myself more-and haven't shared.

  It is with our creative fingerprints we can make our mark-offer someone insight to kindness, battle demons and ride into each others dreams on a white knight, or fight zombies with bated breath.
 You are unique, special -even if others don't see it!  Even if you fly below the radar, wear an invisibility shield-you are not alone on this creative quest!  It takes time and we have to steal moments in our day and plant our dreams in words, paint and ideas. It is our soul dancing, even when others can't see.   All of this is worth it and remember,  nothing compares to you, nothing compares to YOU!