Illustration Friday: Visitors

Illustration Friday: Captain / Emergency

We're wading through haunted waters after losing our captain in our own personal 9/11.

6/30/01

Syringe caps litter my bedroom floor
Like ammunition shells on a barren battlefield.
Smoke rises from the ashes in my heart forevermore,
And the emptiness that's left behind won't be healed.

The quiet morning is so much louder than the night before.
Battle cries that sounded so distant and unreal
Are now echoing screams through a sunlit door,
And the settling dust and nightmares are unrelentingly real.

Your last breath hovers
On my lips lost forever
In the torment of a terrorist strike.
Blowing desperate pleas
Into lungs that gurgle and wheeze,
And still your losing the fight.

The vision of finding you on the floor
Frozen stiff in pain and fear haunts me.
All your spirit and strength is reduced to this horror,
And my helplessness appalls and taunts me.

Pounding on a gentle heart that used to care,
The whites of your eyes are turning gray.
You heave with all that your might can bear,
And strain to keep your life from fading away.

I love you,
I miss you,
I can't stand seeing you in pain.
I wish I treated
You better, I wish
I could've stopped the pain.

Illustration Friday: Missing 2

Studio Lolo's post a few weeks back reminded me of Max. Max was a huge 110 pound loyal Lab whose love for my husband, Mike, was so great that he knew the sound of Mike's truck from several blocks away. He waited each evening to hear that sound of Mike's return from work. The rest of the time they were inseparable.

Max's sole purpose in life was to retrieve anything that was thrown from Mike's hand. As soon as he heard Mike's truck, he would fetch his tennis ball and wait at the door. When Mike pulled in the driveway, he would bark with tennis ball in mouth a loud ear piercing bark. Nothing about Max was small. Not his bark, nor his appetite, nor his smells and messes, nor his desire to please Mike.

Once, Mike made the mistake of taking Max fishing. Before Mike's cast line could hit the water, Max did with an enthusiastic splash. Max swam straight for the little orange bobber with his usual skill, while Mike nervously reeled his line in as fast as he could, yelling, "no Max, no!" It was a race to see who would get the bobber first. Thankfully, Mike won. Barely. After which, Max was promptly tied to a tree. Poor tree! Max would charge full force toward the water then bark helplessly every time Mike cast his line. No fish were caught that day because I'm sure the echos of his cries across the water scared them all away. Max just didn't understand this "new game".

Another thing I don't think Max understood was Mike's death. He still waited every evening for the sound of Mike's truck. When Mike hadn't returned be night fall, Max would howl a slow, sad, mournful howl up into the sky. During the day, he took to head-butting fence boards to make his escape from the backyard. Something he hadn't done since he was a pup. Then he would search the neighborhood for his Mike until evening when he would wander back home and hope for his return.

I tried to console Max by spending more time with him. After all, it was just the two of us now. I could tell, though, I just wouldn't be able to take Mike's place. Any time a man would come over, be it my brother, a friend, a date, or just the repairman, Max would bring him his tennis ball wanting to play. I would try to throw his ball for him, but I couldn't throw as far as Mike, and he seemed to get bored with it after a while. I would try to take him for a walk, but unfortunately I'm not as big as Mike was, so I was usually dragged down the street much to the amusement of my neighbors. As Max got older, though, I would just lay with him in the grass of my front yard and watch the clouds. He would lay his head on me and seemed very content. He didn't have the energy of his youth anymore, and this is probably when we bonded the most.

Max was 11 years old when Mike died. I knew he probably wouldn't live much longer, and we had several scares, but each time I was able to nurse him back to health. Then one day when he was 15, I knew it was his time. I had tried to prepare myself for this day, but that was impossible. I cried, "oh Max." He tried to lift his head and wag his tail, but he couldn't. I held his head in my lap and petted him while I cried. Friends helped me get him to the vet where they put him to sleep. Again, I held his head in my lap and cried while they gave him the injection. He looked up at me. I covered his eyes with my hands and said, "it's ok Max, everything's going to be ok." Then he closed his eyes and took his last breath.

It suddenly occurred to me that he had been hanging on for me. All those afternoons laying in the grass when I thought I was consoling him, he was consoling me. I miss him.

Photo Friday: Oddity

Illustration Friday: Missing

Photo Friday: Wet

The Stuart Smalley Meme

I was tagged for this meme by Mary at No Polar Coordinates. I'm supposed to list 10 things I like about myself. Hmm... Well I've never done one of these before, and I don't want to be a party pooper, so here goes.

1. I like that I'm friendly. I've been told that I'm approachable, and that's a good thing because I like people. They fascinate me.



2. I like that I'm empathetic. This helps me with my work, since I usually work with people who are suffering from some kind of ailment, and I love my job. I like being able to help people.



3. I like that I'm loyal. Sometimes family and friends are all we have to get us through, so I think it's important not to take them for granted. My family and friends know that I'm loyal, so I've always had someone to turn to when I'm down.



4. I like that I'm conscientious. Some people would call it perfectionism, but that has such a negative connotation, and this is supposed to be a positive list.



5. I like that I'm a survivor. I use to worry about things like that, but after some of the things I've been through, I've learned that's one less thing I have to worry about. Someday I plan to do more than just survive.



6. I like that I'm creative. It gives me all kinds of options for therapy.



7. I like that I'm a good swimmer, which comes in real handy when you love the water.



8. I like that I'm a nature lover. Otherwise, I would miss out on all the peace that comes from gardening or a walk in the woods, or the joy that comes from the love of a pet or witnessing some of the miracles of life in the animal kingdom.



9. I like that I'm independent, although, my father and a few ex boyfriends have referred to it as stubborn. Other people say I have strong willpower or determination. Whatever you want to call it, it helps me survive.



10. And last but not least... I like that I can like myself. I know how horrible it feels to not like yourself, and it's a relief to finally be able to like myself.

Oh yes, it's all about me. Probably more than you wanted to know, but maybe not if you've read this far. This is the part where I'm supposed to tag other people. I'll tag Lynda, Karen, Carol Rose, and Kelly and Dominique if they ever get their blogs started.

Illustration Friday: Moon and Poem

I've been on vacation and still trying to recover, so I thought I'd combine the last two topics. Below are the original photos I used to make this collage.

Geraniums for Mary

This is the view from my computer. My geraniums aren't doing very well right now. They need some fresh soil. To see the geraniums that Mary posted, click here.

Mary has given me some wonderful advice on dream interpretation here. Because of her help, I've written this poem about a subsequent dream. For more about these dreams see the post right before this one.

Who are you? What do you have to hide?
Why are you helping me now? What made you decide
To help him deceive me? In you he confides.

I know him well. He gave me respect.
I reverted back to old ways after he left.
I know better, but my heart's not figuring out
The judgement conversions that my mind is weighing out.
My scale's inaccurate, so to strangers I turn.
I'm waisting their time, and nothing I learn.
I replace him with my work to calibrate the scale,
Then I turn to you when all else fails.

Who are you? And why do you hesitate?
Why are you loyal to him? He's just your workmate.
I begged him to come back, and at first he says no,
Then he reconsiders, but has no respect to show.
Now our life is the way it used to be,
But we don't talk about his infidelity.
I've found self respect, and we don't communicate.
His presence is not enough to calibrate.

Who are you? And why did you help him leave?
Why do you help me now when previously you deceive?
You can calibrate the scale now that I'm bereaved.

It's like a riddle. Does anyone know the answer?

Illustration Friday: Discovery

Mrs. Rabbit is discovering that the abuse and rape from her childhood is still affecting her.

Here are some interesting dream image symbolisms.

• Stairs: changes and transformations, the bottom is the unconscious, the top consciousness, landings are the dreamer's energy centers.
• Neck: connection between mind and heart.
• Death: a necessary end has come and there's a need to come to terms with it, or a limit has been reached and the dreamer doesn't know how to go beyond it, or something is dying inside.
• Dead person: unconscious incidents.
• Insects: deeply rooted unconscious content, a sign of nervousness and unconscious fears, a warning against living carelessly. [not sure about mating insects, the image just seem to fit the poem below]
• Rabbit: weak and fearful, needs protection.

Push it in until I choke
Shove it down my throat
To you love is just a jaded joke
On a more intellectual note

Dominate to have your way
Twisting everything I say
Complaining about the way I play
Belittling me where I lay

My fear is just a "cop out"
"For something I don't want to do"
Build a bond that's easily thrown out
Like broken rules in search of truth

Sex isn't that important to love
But can create it without trust
We underestimate the power of
An act that begins with lust

I can't believe I've come back to this
I thought I had gotten over it
After years of marital bliss
I'm like a dog returning to it's vomit

Photo Friday: Barren

"There's an empty space where you used to be..."
Listening to "Still Got The Blues" by Gary Moore.

Illustration Friday: Geeky

I had perfect vision all my life until I started blogging. My friends keep telling me," that's what happens after 40." Does that mean that everyone over 40 is geeky? What's so geeky about glasses anyway? By the way, I'm not getting old! I'm blaming this on the blogging.

This collage is a product of experimenting with my scanner, which was entirely too much fun. Don't tell me I'm geeky for doing this. I got the idea from Karen over at Art In The Garage.

Photo Friday: Busy

Knock, knock... "Can you come out and play?"
" I'm busy."

The early bird....

Book Quiz I found on Digital Scott's Blog

You're Adventures of Huckleberry Finn!

by Mark Twain

With an affinity for floating down the river, you see things in black
and white. The world is strange and new to you and the more you learn about it, the less
it makes sense. You probably speak with an accent and others have a hard time
understanding you and an even harder time taking you seriously. Nevertheless, your
adventurous spirit is admirable. You really like straw hats.

To see Digital Scott's click here

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Illustration Friday: Twist

Photo Friday: Gray

Dear Mike, the trees are lost in the gray
That surrounds them today.
Barren branches strain upward with a cry
To a frozen and lifeless sky
Praying for a brighter day.

Cypress roots are stuck in a muddy bog below;
Don't know which way to go.
Their knees rise up in search of solace
Uncertain of their purpose
In this lonely winter cold.

This season of solitude no lover can defeat;
You've left me incomplete.
I wander through the trees aimlessly
Getting bored shamelessly
With every man I meet.

Spanish moss desperately cling as the wind blows through
Like I cling to you.
But, now your ashes have grown cold,
With nothing left to hold,
I need someone to talk to.

Beneath reflections a decaying log with dead leaves
Whose color the bog bereaves.
I'm stuck in a world of wintry dead,
A shivering stillness inside my head,
And cries you once consoled, no one else perceives.

These photos and poem are a few years old, but I am posting them today in memory of my husband. Today is the anniversary of his death.

Illustration Friday: Camouflage

Alot of people in IF illustrated nature's camouflage. Here's mine.

The Big Thicket

What the camera sees...


What I see.

Photo Friday: Dream

The Haunted Bed

In the metapsychology of a dream
So terrifying I can't scream,
Against inner demons I strain.

They reach out from the mattress on which I lie,
Paralyzing me while you die,
And inflict you with agonizing pain.

I hear the thud as you hit the floor next to me.
My fruitless struggle last an eternity,
And I can feel your life wane.

Metaphysical hands squeeze me into the bed.
Supernatural strength suffocates me with dread
While watching you over and over again in vain.

I know it's a dream, but I cannot wake.
Trapped in a horrifyingly helpless state
Somewhere between conciousness and the inane.

This week is my friend, Lynda's, first post for Photofriday.

Illustration Friday: Rejection

In the desolate winter gray
I can see the brilliance of your eyes
As you look my way,
But it's my isolation that belies
The memory of a lighter day.

My imagination has been imbued
With visions of a tender kiss,
Long ago missed
In the torment of my solitude.
You don't want to notice me anymore;
The awkwardness has soared
To a burdensome magnitude.

Now my faculties fade away.
I'm entranced by your glance,
And alienated as you play.
Desperately wanting another chance
To relive the life of a lighter day.

Photo Friday: Active

I went to the arboretum yesterday even though it rained. I needed some quiet time with nature. I needed to spend it in my garden.

Though she can't speak
She cries out very much.
Velvet petals of red and pink
Reach out for my touch.

Tender seedlings struggle
For their place in my garden.
Against a weeded jungle
My heart has hardened.

She senses my presence;
Flourishes when I'm there.
I'm quieted by her essence
In return for her care.

Pushing fingers through soil,
My cells will rejuvenate.
It's for love I should toil;
A spiritual connection to cultivate.

But I have neglected her,
And myself likewise.
Physically we need each other.
It's our Life Source we recognize.

Photo Friday: Purity

The unspoiled waters of the Caribbean have up to 100 ft. visibility.

Another Nightmare

This was a very disturbing nightmare I had recently. I don't remember most of it. I only remember being in a strange house, standing atop a staircase, and seeing my late husband lying at the bottom dead with his neck broken. It was so horrifying!

My sister said she heard a strange house can be symbolic of new situations or unfamiliar territory psychologically. My husband may only be symbolic of financial security. "Why does my subconscious have to be so morbid about it?!" I asked. She said, "maybe that's the only way it knows how to get your attention." Well it's definitely got my attention.

My naturopath feels that my health and success [or lack of it] are being affected by some emotional issues related to my husband's death. I agree, but don't really know how to go about dealing with this, so I thought I would use my art as therapy. Unfortunately, I've not been happy with anything I've done lately. I'm not sure why.

This illustration bothers me. I don't know if it's because it so disturbing or if it's just not very good. Is it too colorful? Should it be darker to fit the dream? Does the background go with the style of the foreground?

I chose the background for personal reasons rather than for affect. I'm not sure it works, though. It's a photograph of Enchanted Rock, a place where my husband and I used to love to go. Back then, he always took the photos because, well, I just wasn't very good at it. This photo, however, is one that I took the only time that I've been back since his passing. I'm hoping to get an unbiased opinion. What do you think?

Illustration Friday: Your Paradise 2

My paradise.

I have recently volunteered to be on the board of directors for a charity organization called Friends of the Poor Orphaned Children. Right now we're involved in a project that is building a school for poor children in Cambodia. The children there have to pay to go to public schools, and many can't afford to. Alot of them live on the streets with either no father or no parents at all. What really touched my heart was that these children will walk for miles every day to the place where the school is being built, and beg the monks to teach them.

In our country, even the poor take school for granted. Many children drop out with no desire to improve their lot in life. To the children in Cambodia, this must seem like Paradise.

Illustration Friday: Your Paradise

The Forbidden Lake





a very bizarre dream about a lake that would make me forget all my pain

Photo Friday: How I See Myself

" You run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking and racing around to come up behind you again. The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older, shorter of breath, and one day closer to death." -Pink Floyd

This is a feeling that I've been able to relate to even at the ripe old age of 14. In ninth grade, I was a shy, withdrawn little girl with a reputation for trouble. The jocks use to make fun of me, calling me names like stoner and dopehead [I don't do that stuff anymore]. I had a bad habit of sleeping through most of my classes which must have irritated my teachers, but I was never disruptive to the rest of the class, so they usually left me alone. The classes were large, and there was usually some other kid that required more attention. I would just sit at the back of the room and keep to myself.

My English teacher, Miss Daniels, was one teacher, though, that made an impression on me. At the end of the year she gave the class an assignment to write a composition about any poem of our choice. It would count as a major part of our grade for that grading period. I chose this song by Pink Floyd. I don't know if she even knew who Pink Floyd was, but she was so impressed with my paper that she announced to the class that she was giving me the highest grade. I remember being very embarrassed, but that was not really the impression she left with me. She wrote a letter to my parents praising me and discussing my potential to do so much more. She saw something in me that I couldn't see at the time, and since then that has inspired me to try do more.

Sadly, though, I seem to have this uncanny ability to sabotage my own efforts. Even when I have over come so many major obstacles in my life, I still find myself running and running to catch up with the sun. I have the strength and determination to get me just so far, and then I let things like guilt prevent me from succeeding. Things that I thought I had already dealt with and overcame only to find I have a long way to go, and time keeps slipping away.

Illustration Friday: Cars

Ever had one of those dreams where you're in a moving vehicle and no one's driving? I usually wake up while I'm trying to climb into the front seat and grab the steering wheel.

Illustration Friday: Citrus

Lemon Song by Led Zepplin

A quick pastel sketch in my sketch book taken from a photo on Robert Plant's web site. I wasn't in the mood for drawing. I may redo it later. Not happy with the lemon juice.

Another lizard and me

You're probably thinking I have way too much free time. Not so. I'm just not doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

Look Who's Come To Visit

I keep my camera set up on my desk, looking out my window, waiting for visitors, while on my computer.

As a gardener, I should be mad about this little visitor to my garden, but he's so cute.