Looking for Shells and Poems…
She finds a tale of two
belly-up at the water’s edge,
tossed and parted by waves
along with driftwood and debris.
Their sun-roasted crab legs
kick and wiggle like newborns
with each splash of teasing surf.
Overhead, seagulls squawk and salivate
while jockeying for a luncheon table
anticipating a feast of crab du jour.
As fate tips its hand, (or shell in this case),
our beachcomber recalls meeting
these ancient crustaceans on other distant shores.
She upends the two crabs, and as they wade
separately back into the sea,
she straightens her sombrero and wonders…
Is their mating ritual already consummated,
or is it just beginning?
so many sea and sky stories
with each ebb and flow
ag ~ July 2018
June—a favorite month to be outdoors—to breathe the nascent summer scents, to listen to birdsong and bellowing frogs and wear the warm cloth of the summer sun on bare skin. Evenings too, are especially sensual and sweet with fireflies (or lightning bugs), soft breezes, rustling leaves and rain or stars pulsing a sticky sky. It’s a perfect time to sit and write, read poetry and indulge longings of the creative sort. With that in mind, I let go a free flow of hand through brush and words come what may.
This June, I also watched and was engrossed in National Geographic’s program Genius: Picasso and was very inspired by his relentless pursuit of his artistry and his sad pursuit of women/muses often to the detriment of their lives. There is much debate these days about whether or not one can/should separate the art from the artist. Picasso was narcissistic, egotistical and highly competitive, traits I most often find offensive. However, watching the brilliant performance of the actors on a small screen, his story in hindsight and empathizing with Picasso’s process and pain as an artist, I was engrossed and inspired by his vision despite these flaws. Also with his circle of creative compatriots—Matisse, Gertrude Stein, Braque and others. I will read Francoise Gilot’s book Life With Picasso to get her take on their life together as his lover and contemporary artist. From the blurb: “Francoise Gilot paints a compelling portrait of her turbulent life with the temperamental genius that was Picasso.” Oh, and he was a poet too.
So this warm but comfortable night, I share these thoughts, words and paintings:
A few pencil strokes between the o
tumbleweed a rusling breeze
nomads of the night sky
the unturned stone’s lost syllables
in the holy of the artist rides the shotgun
Lightning bugs are out and about! This is a reblog in honor of the solstice, full moon and lightning bugs/fireflies that keep the sun’s light pulsing throughout the short but dark nights.
returns the call
red roses issue
a plea from
the full strawberry moon
and her wild
to these gifts
ag ~ 2014
Casual Summer Conversation
the heat is off
on our honeymoon next year
just let go
we can’t find San Francisco
for the love of chocolate
drippy over packed ice cream cones
don’t peel the peaches; simply rub off the fuzz
chill a good beaujolais
what can you do with corn?
I never met a fritter that I didn’t like
wake up and smell the coffee
so not vanilla – malted milk balls
always entertain the possibility
when on the topic of a fish taco
opinions were strong, tempers flared
it’s like seeing a Rolling Stones concert
that speck of being there
swaying on a thread
ag ~ 2014
I love my late summer garden. Especially at twilight when colors ripen, crickets vibrate at a high pitch and bees and ladybugs are still hard at work. A hummingbird also finds early evening a fine time to sip nectar from the sage. Work is mostly finished for the day and since it’s Friday – mostly for this week. My eclectic garden is small yet packed with color and texture and I’m proud to say – in a highly populated deer and ground-hog habitat. Thank the Goddess for all the sages, both annual and perennial.
But in order to really admire the abundant yet tiny blooms, I like to rub my nose and elbows with the honey-bees, moths, ladybugs, butterflies and even aphids. Most tolerate my intrusion with very good humor – i.e. they ignore me. So I am able to photograph close-up.
I cannot live without the blues, blue and more blue.
As well as apricot, and pink, raspberry and tangerine …
Aubergine has a lovely dark spot in my heart and garden.
Check out the golden aphids (and the ladybug devouring them) on the stems of the orange-crimson annual:
And my statue “Garden Grace” herself ~
a summer garden
ag ~ August 2013
walk on the beach
a man’s feodora
brims with sunlight
spilling into his smile
ag ~ July 2013
“Summer showing her petticoat”
that’s how you described
your birthday month
beloved season of drifting sails
beach wanderings and stormy skies.
How I miss our sharing
the hues of a summer garden
and the fragrance of long nights
along sleepy coastal towns
with the breath of shells.
I find it hard to believe
that you are no longer
a phone call or a letter away
but floating somewhere in the ether.
I wonder… because we made a pact
to stay connected
and to start a new dialogue
despite this radical change of life –
is this you sending me so many hearts?
In the sand shaped by waves,
amongst stones piled high,
on the bathroom floor in a piece of tissue,
leaves that fall to the ground –
all the while I am thinking of you?
I am grateful
for these sweet reminders
of a love still living in my heart
so strong and true.
for Robin ~ Happy Birthday Month
ag ~ almost July 2013
I finger my hair
waiting for your next poem
long grass the apricot drift of late sun sky
fireflies eddy the long summer night
ag ~ 2012