Full Moon Blizzard!

As I sit and wait for yet another Nor’easter to blow through–I try to remind myself of her poetic nature–the storm.

Awoodlandrose's Blog

Bring it on!!! As I sit in my warm house typing away yet to be disturbed by any power outages forcing off lights, water, heat and cell phone. I’ve sat through my share of routine-interrupting storm damage, so I’m not oblivious to its dark side – it’s just that storms change energy. And with the full moon – it’s the lusty wild female energy that awakens in all of us – male and female. It’s our passionate, chaotic creative selves that blows out and about howling free and fierce. YAY!!! I need this once in a blue moon. Once in every season. Once in awhile as a force of nature reminding me who I really am deep within and in relation to Earth and life itself. I made soup, I have candles, books, paper and pencils ready. Extra blankets are out of storage, tea is steeping and my dreamy poetic…

View original post 40 more words


What is it …

One year later…still true.

Awoodlandrose's Blog


What is it about grace
that tenders an angry moment
into a peaceful movement?

What is it about grace
that yarns hands into hats
and humor?

What is it about grace
that placards profanity
into protest poetry?

What is it about grace
that that takes stutter and slurs
into song?

What is it about grace
that takes blue into azure and sky
henna into meadows with mice?

What is it about grace
that takes a humble haiku
into the history of words?

What is it about grace
that tumbles small stones into
a river wild?

And what is it about grace
in a child’s smile that is no
different than our own?

Summer 2011

View original post

Before I Leave This World

I was thinking about the terrible scare recently in Hawaii when an alert was sent in error about a missile threat. Of course there was widespread panic for close to forty minutes. I wondered “how would I react?” Playing out an imaginary scenario is totally different from reacting to a real one, however it does help to look at the situation while in a cool frame of mind. A nuclear threat is as real today as it was in the early sixties during the Cuban Missile Crisis when the East coast was in a direct line for a hit. I remember lining up in our grammar school hallway, away from windows, with our arms crossed over our heads. Ever the realist even at that time, I figured that we were doomed, so what’s the point of false hope and false safety? The only way to survive is to hide/take cover in a real bomb shelter. Ever the realist to this day—that is not a choice or an option for me.

So what would I do?

My first thought is that I would make myself a bourbon sour or smoke a joint (if I had one), turn on some great blues music, hug the dog and head outside. I would want to face the sky. I have a wooden seat swing that overlooks my garden, and the thought of rocking slowly with a light buzz gives me great comfort. I would probably converse out loud with the trees and cosmos. Some words would be of gratitude and some would be profane. I do believe that I would surrender to the inevitable, and hope that I would be in the direct line of fire instead of a survivor. This in turn brings to mind and closer to home/heart —the very real horror and tragedy of Hiroshima. Somehow life went on, albeit forever changed.

The honest truth is that I cannot know in reality what I would truly do, however after all of this, when I slowly rock in my chair swing, I will do it with a grateful rhythm.

The following haiku of mine were written in 2011 about Hiroshima:

heat from the bomb
the charred near the water
left black and bleeding


a baby trying
to nurse her dead mother’s breast
questions of why


the bomb
a moral threshold


always changing
blue and white


and today’s haiku:

grateful or profane a blue sky

© ag ~ 2018


Morning Madness

4:10 AM
under layers of blankets
I fetal my limbs


before prayer
or thanksgiving
a pony wild


mind over matter or is it mind over madness?


rolling stone
exactly when does choice
choose us?


before dawn
lost on the pillow
the pillow itself

© ag ~ 2018

Am I Good Enough?

Lunch discussions at the studio have been lively lately amongst my group of women-artist-friends. We come together regularly and irregularly, each with her own brand of self-expression as well as an enormous overlapping of support, encouragement and enthusiasm for each other’s visions.

The opportunity has come up recently for us to enter our work (individually) into a local show that is to represent a cross section or survey of women artists in our area. It is to be displayed at a respected gallery in town. Along with the opportunity comes the angst of “Is my work good enough?” Taken one step further it morphs into “Am I good enough/Am I worthy?” Rest assured at this point, the artists involved are all dedicated, passionate and hard-working. Several have won prestigious national awards and accolades. And yet the angst, or internal emotional strife, is a rampant virus that can cripple even the best and strongest of us. Eva Hesse, a ground-breaking sculptor and pioneering artist in the 1960s questioned her work, her vision and her right to create. Her close friend wrote her in a now-famous (with spicy trenchant language not included here): “Stop (thinking) and Just Do”—Sol LeWitt. Today we admire and celebrate her courage, leadership and movement of art onto a different and higher plane.

The most difficult part of artistry/self-expression is dealing with a brutal self-critic. The rest is simply about observation, patience and practice. What is so wonderful about working in a community, classroom, workshop or with a group of artists-peers is that when you have discussions like this—the realization sets in that we are not alone with Self-Doubt and Fear of Failure. And when we see that our peers are surely worthy of brilliance and respect, we therefore begin to understand and feel that we too are worthy. Self-Doubt and Fear of Failure are merely tools for objective observation, learning, growth and elevating our craft. It may just well be that angst is as important and misunderstood a process as creation itself.

said the rose to the thorn, thank you

© ag ~ 2018