belle of the ball

step in time with
the world's weary waltz
its unforgettable faults
liven the pace
pick up the grace that
trails behind and
lace it around you
like a shawl
at a ball where everyone
falls and no one
calls out for
help
be the belle who dispells
all signs of hell
and ushers in the face of
heaven

early morning beauty

i am barefoot on our lineoleum watching the sun steal across our lawn listening to the quiet hum of our refrigerator knowing you're asleep deeply completely warm under shadows i take a sip of coffee breathe in the early morning beauty of being alive lift up my arms twirl in the lemon light of today

painted prayers

pressing
brush to board
head to heart
covering canvas in trickling twilight
awkward artist
contented only by this cause:

surfacing stroke by stroke
rainbow rivers of redemption
(like oil on water)
painting prayers of peace
for His people

ropes of riddled frenzy

i've been told: cast your cares upon him.
i'm casting Lord --
with every glance, gesture and heartbeat

i'm still caring,
still twisting, my mind knotted into
ropes of riddled frenzy

desiring to help all
unable to even untie my own knots
ease this stomachache
make new this old wine skin
fill me fresh with spring-time air
so i might help and be helped --
without knowledge of either

splashes of light

he's a blind begger
weathered by life's storms
stooped on a bench
living in the blackest dark

she's a young girl
in a purple hat
eccentric and bold
living for laughter and light

she takes the blind man's hand
helps him across the street
tells him about the gurgling baby,
the old wrinkly butcher
the young couple buying ice cream
the world of greens and reds whizzing by

she paints colour on his black world
giving him vision for one more day

people watching

childhood birthed in me a love of people
watching them splash around in the ocean of life
i 'found myself' in their subtle ideosyncracies
related to their randomness
laughed at their quirks,
impassioned by their perks

no doubt, 'we' disgust me
(it's an ugly world)
but overshadowing the black waves is a
shaft of sunlight
that's what i watch:
golden rays of people's goodness dancing together
making glorious an otherwise dull day

flying free?

i am an artist who prefers to paint in silence

i am a butterfly who flies freely, boldly, alone

who shrivels back into her cocoon at human touch

her wings flapping ferociously inside a self-made grave

desperate for the air they share

too scared to show off her colours

i dance in the night when no one's looking

the stars and moonlight are my sole companions

i weep by day, sheltered by the shadows,

longing for someone to notice my colours

peace, be still

fear is a vase bearing dried flowers.

fear is the wind in my hair after i've gone bald.

fear is the net i use to catch butterflies ... beauty held captive.

fear is the angry little man who stomps on my childish dreams.

fear is afraid of a God who stills storms.

point of no return

there's a saying: Give until it hurts.

i want to give, not only until it hurts, but until it goes beyond pain. i want to give until i hurt enough to produce joy.

after all, what's so noble about giving until it hurts? that only proves our limitations, our selfish boundaries. it's like saying: i'll give until it's too hard and then i'll stop.

no, we should give until we break ... until our skin cracks open and our spirit filters out, free and laughing.

the point of no return.

the point of being one with Christ.

silent song

watering my garden in my flip flops wet mud squishing between my toes hot sun breathing down my neck gentle breeze lifting apple blossom scents wafting sweet perfume makes me stop, drink in the day, thank God for the way he smiles through creation's silent song

thunderstorm

puddles of liquid light
metallic shivers
silence
crack of cloud, slice of sky
bright like
pistachio pudding
warm blankets
an angry canopy
stretched
snarling
candles flicker, flit, fade
i feel your face
soft skin
makes me breathe again

akiane

this artistic child prodigy is my new heroine.

www.artakiane.com

looking into you

the man in robes is talking
we're facing
future
fears
new names
new skin
new time
i look at your hands
(calloused, brown)
i look into your eyes
(bluebirds, sincere)
i look into the sky
(canvas of yellow and white)
i look into the crowd
(smiling weepy eyes)
the man in robes is asking
i look into my heart
'i do'

grey-cloud day

raindrops streak my window
apple blossoms glisten
(like pink-cheeked ladies with green hats)
i'm standing in my yellow kitchen
eating a slice of orange
letting the juice soothe my throat like
water on dry ground
inside my heart is resting
full of rainbow colours
on this grey-cloud day

fresh laundry, open windows

we giggle, sit down on the linoleum and gasp at the windows.

shafts of light play with our hair. our marriage is a comfortable pile of clothes, multicoloured, clean yet wrinkled with tears and time. our fingers lock, our heads bow and we peel open the gates of heaven approaching the throne of grace.

we cannot see for the windows! we cry. there are too many. it's too bright. give us answers, point us in the right direction. you may have closed one door but ... which window should we climb through?

we lie there as the morning sun shifts its rays and the shadows fall, silhouetting our lives on the walls. in the glow of the mid-day sun, a window glistens. God's finger points and we climb to our feet, ready to open its latches.

a wrinkled pile of laundry being shaken out, freshened up, and prepared to be worn again.

em's web site

hey guys! my brother made me this wonderful web site:

www.canvaschild.com.

just thought i'd share :) i'll be updating it with my paintings as the days/ years pass!

stepping back

audrey hepburn
crossed my path at 2 pm
hair coiffed under a
huge happy hat
sunglasses large, black
face white, gentle smile on
playful lips
slight build, stylish shoes,
tip tapping on the pavement
the light turned green
she took one step forward
as if she owned the world
and
i stepped back
into the store for some sunglasses

storm

shaking like an elm leaf
she stands in the rain
stained by man’s old game
blaming herself
shaming herself
for being a girl
not seeing the pearl for the oyster
she runs to me hides in my sweater
I let her
we stand there getting wetter
fettered to the other for the sadness in this world
God’s crying I whisper
she folds up in sobs
a fetus finding faith
in the dirt
she believes despite the hurt
washed white, weary, worn
i’m her anchor in this storm

seeds and weeds

ordinarily i love gardening.
rolling the tiny seeds between my fingers
drinking deep the fresh spring dirt and
digging even deeper for grubs...

ordinarily the day is not so stormy
-- nor our moods
with spade and trowell we set out in windy rain to plant
what we supposed were seeds of hope
begging open the soil
we snapped at the weather, then at each other

seeds spoiled, flung, forgotten in a pile of hurt feelings
he drove off and left me sitting in the rain
searching for seeds
pulling up weeds
crying out for growth
and begging the sun to return

fantasy flower

"you need an orange flower
with a pink middle
bright enough to cheer up the blackest of days"

she declared then rolled away on her bike to
bring me back the most brilliant flower

... only all of the petals had blown away

"all you've got left is the centre," she wept

"that's all i need," i whispered "the petals were merely orange wings helping the flower fly to where it belonged

"now that it's here, they're free to go. "

my little friend smiled, tucked her blond head into my shoulder, and we pretended to play "he loves me, he loves me not" with the petal-less flower till the sun ducked down

and she biked home. it was the brightest of days.

formal invitation

I would like to officially invite each one of you to come to a Silent Art Auction June 10, from 6-10 p.m. at the Saddlery Gallery, 10137-104 St., here in Edmonton, AB. All proceeds from the auction will be benefiting The Alberta Cancer Foundation (www.endcancer.ca). Over 120 items for auction will be on display, including a COUPLE of my own oil paintings. Admission is FREE. As you know, my mother has been battling brain cancer for the past few years; it would mean so much if you showed up to demonstrate your support of this cause. "Together We Can" end cancer -- to quote the weekend's slogan. For more information, just call me (465-7941) or leave a comment. God bless.

flickering candles

we're lonely travelers
(floundering)
in the tunnel of life
gripping candles
(flickering)
feeling the walls
finding hands
to help us stand
holding on
following the shadows
(frightened)
prodded on by the mystery of the
light

em's art

i'm not sure if you can view my art by clicking the link below, but we'll give it a shot. if you can't see it and want to, write a comment and i'll e-mail the album to you. peace!

http://ca.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/philosopher_queene/album?.dir=78c5&.src=ph

Guppy's Photos

check out my friend Agapi's photography -- she's so gifted. i met her through young life.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/91026560@N00/

young life

smuggling solace from
grey swarms of smoke
they huddle together
cuddle forever
cradled in coccoons of self pity

we grip hands
surrounding them, eyes lifted
begging golden grace

"come engage them
have your way
save them from their demons"

(scaffolding
and
scarring such
sad souls)

"make them bright like a brand-new day"

fickle feelings

gliding
abiding on
this tree swing
pushed by the power of
Emotion
i knock you down
ignore your fall
reaching higher and higher
for a branch i'll never grasp
yet my
fickle
feelings
push too hard
make me
land in the
sand beside you
staring (guilty) into
eyes that love me
promising to stay
on the ground beside me always