Painting The Sunset

Pitcher of Roses

My Sis made a beautiful flower arrangement, in a pitcher and basin set, for our Mom's birthday.

That gave me the idea to create this image.

For Her

Hummingbird

Night Sky

Night Sky

Clouds made the sky opaque.
hiding the stars,
keeping the moon a secret.

BBB 2012

Blue Crocus

Ballerina

King of the Jungle

Flight to the Mountains

Foolish Questions

Foolish Questions

Where can a man buy a cap for his knee?

Or a key for the lock of his hair?

And can his eyes be called a school?

I would think—there are pupils there!

What jewels are found in the crown of his head,

And who walks on the bridge of his nose?

Can he use, in building the roof of his mouth,

the nails on the ends of his toes?

Can the crook of his elbow be sent to jail—

If it can, well, then, what did it do?

And how does he sharpen his shoulder blades?

I'll be hanged if I know—do you?

Can he sit in the shade of the palm of his hand,

and beat time with the drum in his ear?

Can the calf of his leg eat the corn on his toe?—

There's somethin' pretty strange around here!

William Cole

As I Look Out My Window

As I Look Out My Window

As I look out my window
and the sun falls upon my face
as I feel the warmth
I think about your embrace.

I think about our future
and the times we spent in the past
and everything we have between each other
hoping our love will last and last.

While I think about you
and I watch the morning doves
in the morning dew
inseparable for life, always together as two
and I wonder, will this be me and you?

Looking out towards the silent garden
at the beautiful array of flowers
as the soft wind moves them
I am in a trance
and I could just sit here for hours
with these thoughts of you.

Then another thought crosses my mind,
are you looking out your window
having the same thoughts too?

© Sherri Emily Avery

Feeling The Music

Happy Holidays 2011

Happy Holidays to all my friends and followers! :)

 

Goddess Of Space

Aditi is a goddess in the Hindu pantheon, mother to the gods of the heavens. She is sometimes referred to as the womb of space, and in this role can be seen as the female Brahma, creator of all. Personified, she is the goddess of the past and the future, of all space, of fertility, and of consciousness itself.

 

Aditi is also looked upon as the goddess who is unbound by the world, even more so than the other gods and goddesses. She is beyond time and space in many ways, and is unchained by the rules that bind other beings. In this form Aditi is often worshiped by those needing to be liberated from some situation in their life, be it literal bondage or something like an ailment or guilt.

Winter Wonderland

 

original

I rarely do animations for this site as Blogger is so picky about file size

but thought I'd do a small one for Christmas.

Hope you like! :)

 

The Opposite Of Love

The Opposite of Love

Some people think

The opposite of love

Is hate...

That’s a big mistake;

When you’ve loved someone

With all your soul,

And poured everything

From your heart,

When you’ve loved-someone

So deeply from the start

And then love-leaves-you,

Like a soul-shattering-pain-of-glass

You’re hoping soon that-this-will-pass

Wondering how the hell

Did your wires-get-so-crossed?

The opposite of love

Is not hate at all

The opposite of Love

is

Loss…
 

©8DaveWonder

Her Violin Sings At Night

Her Violin Sings at Night

She plays softly by the moonlight
In mournful solitude surrounded by mist
With the moon listening to the violin's song.
The notes caress the stars at night
As the violin sings with her tenderness.
The night carries the music along.

She comes alone at night to sit by the lake
And pour her heart into the violin's strings.
The violin's voice haunts the nighttime air.
She plays a song of longing that makes her heart break.
Her spirit weeps as her violin sings,
While into the night rises a song of despair.

The moon and the stars lend their ears
As the solitary maiden comes to play
And the mournful notes take flight.
They listen until the sun's greeting nears
And the tune finishes with the birth of the day,
But will be started anew when her violin sings at night.

Copyright 2011, William Michael Winegar

Moon Maiden

Moon Maiden

Her eyes, two of the brightest
stars in the firmament
smile dazzling enough
for midnight frolics.
She is enveloped in a dazzling
aureole of  moonlight
so intense, so concentrated
no language
can aspire to describe.

Author unknown
 

The Past

Faulkner said: “The past is never dead; it’s not even past.”

All of us labor in webs spun long before we were born, webs of heredity and environment, of desire and consequence, of history and eternity.

Haunted by wrong turns and roads not taken, we pursue images perceived as new but whose provenance dates to the dim dramas of childhood, which are themselves but ripples of consequence echoing down the generations. The quotidian demands of life distract  from this resonance of images and events, but some of us feel it always.

From “The Quiet Game” by Greg Iles

But Tomorrow

 

 

But tomorrow, dawn will come the way I picture her,
    barefoot and disheveled, standing outside my window
    in one of the fragile cotton dresses of the poor.
    She will look in at me with her thin arms extended,
    offering a handful of birdsong and a small cup of light.

~ William Collins (December 25, 1721 - February 17, 1847)