Winged, Poetry & Art Photo's

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Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, Pablo Picasso, 1907

We are strangers to each other but not to him; who calculates rather then relates, who cuts and collages us into cubes of memento mori, the death rattle when our love affair ends. as if the clarity illuminated their pain if their lips moved too much he would mask them, their minds not on the moment... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 5:35 PM | add or view comments (3) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

I'm working on a series of poems about Picasso's women...This is my first.

Woman with Tambourine, 1938 Bazooka, Picasso's done it again, look at her, she's a collage of many unknown parts, a mystery to explore, she's dancing to an unheard melody in Picasso's head, she loves to sing and play her Tambourine, it's magical getting to know her in a cubest sense, even though... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 6:49 PM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Monday, April 14, 2008

Hot Springs' Retreat..in Arkansas.

Hot Springs is where the water runs hot and the souls run cool, no war no fire could erase them, their livelihoods up in the hills far from screeching wheels, trees, foliage and red clay bounds them all together, all around them are picture perfect shots, don't worry about slipping and sliding down... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 8:58 AM | add or view comments (3) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Hermes the prankster of the Gods, sired the

love child of Zeus and a pregant Semele, who died when a wish backfired because love between a God and a mortal, cannot safely be; Zeus quickly plucked her unborn fetus from her dying womb to stash in his thigh til born, becoming tired of the extra weight, the then plucked the child, once again,... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 8:13 AM | add or view comments (4) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Friday, April 11, 2008

Partying with a nude, Venus, Aprodite and Hermes, and a couple a'kin...

Nune Descending A Staircase (Duchamp) Venus (Giorgione) Busting a move to the music of the abstract and partially hidden, is a nude descending a metered staircase in folds of black and white, filtering in and out what is important and what is not; next to him is Aphrodite, a Godly wallflower so shy,... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 6:55 AM | add or view comments (5) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Birthdays, coming and going, so quickly, what have we accomplished?

Each of us in our subjective consciousness has a story of love and survival that is uniquely ours just like my story. Like fingerprints. Every person, event, circumstance and situation that affected us deeply traced itself into our soul where it waits to be turned into poetry, song or some form of... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 8:20 AM | add or view comments (3) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Ribbons, bows and pink lace...

No ribbons, bows or pink lace, only curly long locks around my freckled face, I don’t want dolls or to play with others, I only want to dress up and go to town, Mom and Pop’s spent too much time arguing, too many empty whiskey bottles, upset furniture, messes for me to clear up, and too many trips... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 3:16 PM | add or view comments (3) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Here are about seventy snakes waiting to come to life, the Honey Locusts,

with each one about a foot long, with noisy seeds inside them like little coffee beans. They are curled up for the winter, some in the leaves, some on the grass walk, some lying face down or face up in the snow. I put about twent in my pocket so I can look at them when I get home and tear them apart... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 8:25 AM | add or view comments (1) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Blossoms praying while they fall..there's nothing as sweet as falling...

for a little girl in her gardenous world, she loves the sight of us sprawling all over the lawn, pink, white and yellow, some of us pierced through the heart by a stem so green, but like children and her, we must eventually be set free by the wind, to take the ride of our lives, we don't have much... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 6:37 AM | add or view comments (4) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Saturday, April 5, 2008

Like waves breaking through history, poems break thru our hearts...

They are thought to come when they are least expected. They start out as one thing and end up something much more royal, much different that we could have imagined. Writing a poem is a lot like making love. No one sees it happening but it always causes arousal and is always over too quickly. Perhaps... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 12:11 PM | add or view comments (0) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

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About this Blog

The Passage of time. Down here on the third rock from the Sun, self-expression is our genius and we must not be talked out of it.I enjoy using pictures and writing to speak for me. I especially enjoy letting others revisit their own lives when reading mine and looking at my photo's.

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