Amy

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AMY

Opening the squeaky door to the closet
Beneath the stairs,
Transported her to a mystical world.
A realm, of dreams, Barbie’s,
puzzles baby carriages and dolls.

For numerous years, these toys would bring a smile
to her little face,
and joy to her heart.
Hours of amusement in the magical world
of her youth.

Today, the hall is piled four feet high
with items, broken, discarded and out grown.

Sitting on the hardwood floor,
I sort through the various stages
of my little girl’s youth,
Reminiscing and delighting in the memories.

To my dismay,
the toys do not find their way back,
to that mystical land under the stairs.

A changed young woman immerged
out of the closet,
and closed the magical door
for the last time.

Sabastian

Sebastian

“I had no mind then
for anything
except for Sebastian
and I saw him already
being threatened,
but I did not yet know then
how black was the threat.
His constant despairing prayer
was to be left alone.
And since he counted among the intruders,
his own conscience,
and all things of human affection,
his days in Arcadia were numbered.

“H e did not fail in love,
but he lost the joy of it,
but I was no longer
a part of his solitude
as my intimacy with the family grew,
I became a part of the world
that he sought to escape.
I became one of the bounds
which held him…
that was the part for which his mother
and out little talks
was seeking to fit me.”

The legendary television series, BRIDESHEAD REVISITED, based on the 1945 novel by Evelyn Waugh

Who Are You?

Who are You?

I see your lithe form,
Barefoot in the meadow
The lavender and hollyhocks
your audience.
The soft grasses
your stage.

The steps that you make
are unfamiliar to me,
as You twirl and glide,
through the wildflowers.
To the music
Only you hear.

The smile on
your young face
is enchanting.
Your hair flowing
on the wind
Is magical.

Who are you?
To be so alive and free
may I at least
know your name?

In The Dark Of Night

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In the dark of night.


He observes me
From up above.
In the midnight blue
of the sky.

His iridescence
lights my way
Lest I stumble
over the rocky terrain.

Is his power
and presence omnipotent?
Or do we
make him so?

Which ever,
Please don’t’ let the glow
Subdue.
That sends the gentle light.

Or else the wandering few
Who see
Will be lost forever
in the dark of night.

Missing You

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Missing you

The moon’s radiance
rouses me,
in the dead of night.

It’s iridescence calls to mind
the love we shared.
So long ago.

I remember the scent of your skin,
And the steady beat
of your heart
as I lay content,
in your arms.

I smile into the darkness
As I feel your essence
by my side once again.
If only
in my dreams.

Forgotten

Forgotten

I am forever searching
For what could be,
In the diamonds and lace
of yesteryear.

Forgotten long ago in time,
And tea and scones
would be more likely
than 9-5.

The mauves and crimsons
of a distant sunset,
I do not realize
their simplistic beauty.

For I am lingering too long
in the age that has long since
passed me by
and neglected to claim me.

Glimpses

Glimpses

Through the haze
Snow capped mountains
line my horizon.

The sun sets with crimson,
Tangerines
and deep mauves.

Tall evergreens
wave in the breeze,
Giving me hope that things
are ever changing.

Without these
Glimpses of color
these subtle
hints of hope.,
I would forever
be lost
in darkness.

The Ledge

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The Ledge

The last thread has slipped
From my trembling fingers
And caught on the wind.
Relinquished, carried
Away from me.

I watch it dance on the breeze
till it is but a speck on the horizon.
I knew this time would come.
It had to.

The pain was always too much to bare.
I have long since stopped
My climb to the summit.
I will sit awhile on the ledge.

Dangling and swinging
my feet to and fro.
I will not look again for
the precious golden thread,
For with it comes too much pain.

I feel the memories
swirl in the air around me.
Taunting,
tempting me once again
to reach,
to climb
to hope.

But I shall not

For I now know
that anything I truly need
will be provided
By him.

Cycle Of Life

Cycle of Life

Blinding radiance
pierces the requisite shadows.
Drawing me from my enigma of images,
Shapes and symbols.

Blood pressure escalates.
Lukewarm rivulets cascade down,
Cleansing past iniquities.

Temperature, color
and scent pervade the room
Pushing out
all consideration of slumber.

Concrete, paper and communication.
Season stir and cleanse, satisfy craving.
And then the blessed darkness
Consumes again
till the morning light.

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Dark Horseman

You catch his sweet scent
On the wind in the air.
With cold steely eyes
at you does he stare.

Hidden in the shadows
by the light of the moon
is the devil’s own reaper
Foretelling of doom.

The time has come.
You knew it would.
The race to the end,
has started for good

Over hill and dale
on horse’s hooves does he fly.
Each time he gets close,
The scythe passes you by.

You run very fast
But you can not hide.
For if it’s in the cards
You must abide.

Does he just love the chase?
That makes your adrenaline flow?
Or has your time come
And he’s in the know?


Copyright ©2004

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As you see
The past
Still haunts me..
As it has created the future.

The Rose

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The Rose


Dew clings to the crimson tips,
slowly driping down the length of the bulb.
The sun is just beginning to rise over the tops
of the snow capped ridge, beyond the meadow.

It’s slim golden fingers of warmth spreading
across the emerald field.
The shadows of the early morning landscape
seem to fade before my eyes.

The dew begins to disappear from the single rose
I hold in my hand.
The last token of love you gave to me.
I wish its perfection could last forever.
As a solid remembrance of our love.

But I know all too soon, it will wither and die
Like our forbidden love, that was once in full bloom.

Oh, let me enjoy this moment to its fullest
While it lasts,
Before the shadows once again call
To claim the rose and the love
That could not be enjoyed through eternity.

Let me press my lips against its soft fragrant
Damp petals just once more,
to imprint this image forever in my mind and heart.

Farewell my lovely flower.

Pleasures Of The Night

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Pleasures of the night

Slim fingers of moonlight
caress my face,
as a lover’s touch,
beckoning me, to rouse and wander.

Nestling in the goose down,
I seek to return to my hidden state.
Though I can not resist the night’s allure.

I meet the chill of the night air,
As I step out onto the terrace.
Silver, swirls around my face
as my hair catches on the wind.

It is then that I hear
the solitary howl in the distance.
The eerie sound
sends shivers down my spine.

I try to turn back to the warmth and safety
of my bedchamber.
However my traitorous body is already
descending the granite steps
to the moonlit garden below.

Gliding past the delicately scented lilacs
and the night blooming jasmine,
I am unaware of their concern for me.

The moon’s iridescence guides my way
as I sprint towards the dense woods.
My skirts lifted to hasten my arrival,
to, I know not where.

In the center, beneath the glow of the moon
and the stars in the midnight sky,
I relinquish my satin gown.

I stand naked and vulnerable
To the night’s wiles.

I feel your presence before I see you.
Your dark form moves in the shadows.
Your masculine scent fills the air around me,
causing familiar sensations in the pit of my stomach.


As your mouth hungrily captures mine,
your hot breath declares the heat within.
A gentle kiss it is not,
but a hungry passionate drink.

As the clouds absolve the moon
you raise your face to mine.
I see your glowing eyes
and sharp white teeth.

You take me in a brutal joining of heat.
No protest do I make.
We become as one with the night,
as our rhythm matches the tribal beat.

Pure animal instinct takes over my body
allowing my true beast to emerge.
and enjoy the dark pleasures of this night.

Your pearly teeth sparkle in the moonlight
as you bury them deep in my thigh.
Guaranteeing that I will forever
play in the moonlight with you .



All works in this Blog a
copyrite of Windy City Art Corp.

torrent.

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Torrent.


The darkness covers the sky
And causes time to stand still.
I can no longer control it
If I ever could.

Could this poison
finally have a name?
A Mo.?
Or will I still be kept in the dark?
At the whim and will of its torrent.

Its not only I that suffer now
The evil has become corporal.
It touches us all.
and its pains like labor
are coming closer and closer.

And the turbulence is so intense
now it scares me.

Deception

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Deception

I told myself last time,
that when the darkness comes,
I would be prepared.
For its darkness and shadows,
Its taunts and lies
I would not again fall victim.

The wickedness slid in the rear door
so slowly that I didn't’t hear it gain entry.
It slithered across my toes
and up my leg.
Its tentacles seized hold of my heart
and made it black and charred.

It continued on its way to my head.
Where it overrode my own circuitry
shorting out electrodes along
its destructive path of deception.

I was possessed by the blackness once again.

It pulled and pushed and twisted reality

till there was no hope.
No other option but to end this hell.

Then mercifully the current abated

the waves crested and receded,
Leaving me beaten and exhausted.
Battered against the rocks of my psyche.

Each time this transpires,
I stay longer and longer in the dark realm

that longs to keep me in its searing flames,

and un quenchable thirst.

Each time I loose a little more strength,
and the will to fight.
Each time I loose a little more
of me.
Let me rest now,
before I have to fight again.

Echoes Of The Past

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Echoes Of The Past

The grass is damp,
between my toes,
I pull my woolen cape tighter
around my neck to ward off
the midnight chill,
that crawls on misty fingers
over the old wooden bridge
under the black wrought iron gate
that guards the entrance
to the resting place
of many of my people
towards me to engulf me.
I can not read the names
on the old crumbing marble markers,
that many years ago were sharp and new.
The chill has caused my eyes
to tear in defense-
or is it a memory drawing me back
to a distant time or place
to receive a message.
I need to hear?
Even with the damp mossy undergrowth,
the dense fog and the chill night air,
I feel a sense of peace
of belonging in this place,
the realm of the sleeping.
Echoes of the past
spirits in a mist
dark sinister thoughts
swirling around me
and the stones.
Tell the stories

Summoned (Poem)

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Summoned
I walk swiftly, my mind in a trance.
My feet know the way
through the woods over the old wooden bridge to the entrance of the cemetery.
The squeak of the old wrought Iron Gate,
breaks up the eerie silence.
The Silence and finality of death.
The dark stone crypt is in the center of a grove of blooming crab apple tree
Their hearty mauve blossom’s in contrast to the weathered gray stones of the crypt.
The heavy door opens silently as if I haven’t been the only visitor here in ages.
Though I see no evidence of a just past presence. Cobwebs line the opening and a fine dust has settled on the occupants within
"Why was I summoned here?"

Dark Knight

Dark Knight

You are one of the Kings preferred.
Chosen from the finest of men.
To serve King and Country
With out even reflection.
You stand by your Sovereign.
No questions do you submit
Only answers do you comprise.

Honorable, Righteous, Gallant.
Shiny armor without a tarnish,
As your reputation is radiant.
Your strength and determination
Serve the Crusade.

So fair of face that the Maidens all blush,
As you ride your proud steed
Through the crowded sunlit square.
Its hooves rhythmically clacking
On the time worn stones.
Drumming up effects of long past.


You glance neither left nor right.
For a straight path you must abide.

From your goal no distraction has command.
Forever driving towards your aspiration,
To complete the quest that was set before you.

The golden Grail,
Whose value is not in its metal
But rather from the secrets
that lie within.
To possess this Grail is
what no man has before you.
Many have tried and failed
Whilst they weren’t worthy
To hold this coveted object
in their glimpse.
But this Grail is for you alone,
For with its power you will be king.…

Dreams

Dreams

9-18-04


I have been working lately on moods and dream experiences. I am trying to put my moods and dream into words and paintings. A wonderful artist got me interested in logging my dreams and moods. She has successfully put her dreams on paper.

First of all I try to remember my dreams, the overall tone of the dream and the various symbols that stuck out in the dream.

Your subconscious thinks and dreams in images and symbols. I write down these "Symbols" soon after waking, or else it would all be lost............

Then it’s off to the DREAM DICTIONARY

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I try to find each symbol in the dictionary and copy all of the readings on paper. Many have more than one interpretation.

When I have all of them, I read them over thoroughly looking for hints or clues or

"A THAT'S IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Which believe it or not usually happens to me.

When the find the meaning or meanings that seem to fit perfectly (and not everyday do I find a meaning to my dreams) but its mostly 98% that I do satisfactorily find that one of the meanings are exactly on key with what I am feeling or what is going on in my life at the time.

http://thumb1.webshots.com/s/thumb2/2/91/91/118229191nAxPUu_th.jpg
Then I try to lay down a composition using the symbols from my dream.

After I am satisfied with the rough draft, I start the painting.

Most all of my paintings start with a swirl dreamy blurry pattern. Have to set the mood for the painting and also let YOU KNOW, that I am dreaming. Or better yet that this work is part of a dream I experienced.

Then I first paint the main symbol in my dream, the one that stuck out the most or I felt had the most meaning. And all of the other symbols are then worked into the composition.

Ta Da!!!!!

Thanks for being a part of my life today.

Being

that I started this Blog on September 11, 2004.

It is only fitting that I first honor our serviceman

and women with a poem.

A Letter to My Soldier

It was many years ago, that I placed an order for a bracelet.

Not diamonds rubies or even gold.

It was a simple silver bracelet,

not adorned with any gems at all.

But a very priceless jewel was stamped upon its face.

The name Commander Thomas Kolsted,

One of the many United States service men:

M.I.A: missing in action.

I proudly wore your bracelet,

it never left my wrist.

Through my teenage years-you were my hero.

Every night I would anxiously watch the television

to see "Who had been found"

But to my dismay your name was never called.

In my young mind,

I could not fathom the fact that "My Man"

was never going to be coming home.

I never met him,

or saw his face,

but I know that he was the bravest of men.

I never met his family.

"Did he have a wife, children?

he must have had someone special,

waiting just like me.

Someone who knew his smile,

his beautiful eyes, his loving heart.

Who also sat by the television

waiting for his named to be called,

and dying a little

each time it never was.

It is now many years later,

that war is over,

while others still rage.

We still don't know where you are today, Thomas.

Your name has been imprinted

on The Memorial Wall

as well as into my heart forever.

It took me awhile to find your name

(there are so many who were never found,)

but you were there

to my hearts delight,

You were lost

but not forgotten

"My soldier."

God knows where you are.

For you are at his side,

still guarding overus.

"Forever on Duty"

Love, Jeanne