Baby Owls in a Tree
February 24, 2012 by
Baby Owls in a Tree Waiting on Lunch from Momma
n THE OWLS by Charles Baudelaire
UNDER the overhanging yews,
The dark owls sit in solemn state,
Like stranger gods; by twos and twos
Their red eyes gleam. They meditate.Motionless thus they sit and dream
Until that melancholy hour
When, with the sun’s last fading gleam,
The nightly shades assume their power.From their still attitude the wise
Will learn with terror to despise
All tumult, movement, and unrest;For he who follows every shade,
Carries the memory in his breast,
Of each unhappy journey made.
The dark owls sit in solemn state,
Like stranger gods; by twos and twos
Their red eyes gleam. They meditate.Motionless thus they sit and dream
Until that melancholy hour
When, with the sun’s last fading gleam,
The nightly shades assume their power.From their still attitude the wise
Will learn with terror to despise
All tumult, movement, and unrest;For he who follows every shade,
Carries the memory in his breast,
Of each unhappy journey made.
MOTHER EARTH, SISTER MOON
February 24, 2012 by
- MIXED MEDIA, OIL ON CANVAS
TO THE MOONArt thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a Joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
By Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)
SPLENDOR IN THE MOON
February 24, 2012 by
NEW MOON
The new moon, of no importance
lingers behind as the yellow sun glares
and is gone beyond the sea’s edge;
earth smokes blue;
the new moon, in cool height above the blushes,
brings a fresh fragrance of heaven to our senses.
By D.H. Lawrence
(1885-1930)
When I am old, I shall wear purple
May 28, 2011 by
This painting was done when I turned sixty. My painting, drawings, and photographs always have something to do with my life experience, my journey. I include the poem from which this painting emerged.
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other peoples’ gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickles for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
by Jenny Joseph
When I am old, I shall wear purple
