Tag Archives: Art

Poetry, Writing

The Women of House of the Dragon

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(Poem 229 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/ivnVd8

The women of this world
create a complicated
kaleidoscope of mothers
and sisters who must
begrudgingly tolerate the
men who share their space.
From the bawdy pirate queen
with her many wives and
loyal crew of rowdy marauders,
to the gentlest soul Helaena,
unwilling to harm another,
but unafraid to speak the truth.
From the queen who ever was,
whose unwavering hope inspires
a new world of dragon riders,
to the queen who agonizes
over the decision to sacrifice
her own flesh and blood for
the sake of a kingdom of peace.
From the Lady who searches
the moors and her soul for the
dragon she believes is destiny,
to the White Worm who knows
the underbelly of hunger and
thirst and clawing her way from
the trench to the castle better
than most can begin to fathom.    

@Home Studio – 229th poem of the year (after watching House of the Dragon Season 2 Episode 8.)

Condal, Ryan and George R. R. Martin, creators. House of the Dragon. HBO Entertainment and Warner Bros., 2024.

Runner ups for the women of dragons photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Lesson 20 The Way of the Wizard

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(Poem 228 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“Although you may fancy that you own a part of this earth, in fact you only walk it.” – Merlin, The Way of the Wizard    

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/CnsivH

We seem to move
indiscriminately
on the road of time
because we cannot
see the patterns of
spirit in the dust,
or the restlessness
of the wind as it
scatters our ashes
to build new homes,
and we are afraid
of the secret places
of the soul that hide
around the next bend.  

@Home Studio – 228th poem of the year

Chopra, Deepak. The Way of the Wizard: Twenty Spiritual Lessons for Creating the Life You Want. New York, United States of America, Harmony Books, 1995, pp.136-142.

Runner ups for the dusty road photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Kage’s Unraveling

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(Poem 225 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

 AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/uhv49s

I’m afraid my cat
is unraveling
like an old sweater
with a snag.

If I pull too hard
on the loose thread
catching
on my ring
or hangnail,
who knows
how many carefully
knit rows will come
undone
and fall,
gravity removing all
trace of ever having been
a woven thing.

I don’t think he can
be put back together
again
if he falls
from his wall
and I don’t know
how to keep
him balanced
on the ledge
between
this reality
and the next.

@Home Studio – 225th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Kage’s Unraveling photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Hair Sticks

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(Poem 224 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/aFvVVN https://gencraft.ai/p/7PA40X https://gencraft.ai/p/FTmjDC

Whether a ji to pin
a perfectly coiled
chignon in place,
or a binyeo to look
powerfully poised,
hair sticks are a
timeless adornment
that are practical,
beautiful, and one
of the few women’s
accessories that
can double as a
weapon if needed.

@Home Studio – 224th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Hair Sticks photos to accompany my poem:

https://images.app.goo.gl/y86DiXsZhsnWtm5fA
Poetry, Writing

4am

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(Poem 222 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

 AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/nh6lZj

What is it about 4am
that makes magic drip
onto the page like wax?
The air feels different
when the dogs and sun
still sleep; the dew is
yet to blanket itself
across morning’s back.
There in the stillness of
the pre-dawn quiet,
thoughts have latitude,
and words permit them-
selves both whimsy and
wonder without too much
introspection or gravity.  
It is refreshing to be
acquainted with the
other side of night that
does not lay souls down
for fear they must be kept
but celebrates once again
the uprising of the spirit.

@Home Studio – 222nd poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Inside Out 2

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(Poem 221 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://images.app.goo.gl/XiiiiMmvNwkLSmbU6

Puberty ushers in such
comrades as Anxiety,
Envy, Embarrassment,
and my favorite, Ennui.
The panic that ensues
when Embarrassment
threatens and Envy
rears her unsettled self,
resurrects Fear and
Disgust, Anger and
Sadness, leading to
complete paralysis.
The only protection
against it all is to feign
Ennui…nothing matters
because too much
enthusiasm might be
the wrong amount, and
no one would dare be
too happy in a room
full of teens trying to
fake unruffled chill.

Rebekah Marshall @Home Studio on 8/19/24 @ 10:17am – 221st poem of the year (After watching Inside Out 2 with my granddaughter in theatre.)

Mann, Kelsey. Inside Out 2. Amy Poehler, Pixar Animation Studios, 14 June 2024.

Poetry, Writing

Nothing

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(Poem 220 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/FPW14a

The antithesis of everything
one can logically consider,
should be nothing at all.
Casanova of Venetia would
argue that such is absurd,
as everything is one with faith.
But nothingness as a concept
of not-being is of value as a
consideration, even if nearly
impossible for us to conceive.
Even Einstein struggled to
believe something so absolute
could exist, since spacetime
renders past and future illusory.
Could it be a state of mind like
Nirvana or wu wei, or even
the permanence of Tao that
cannot be described or named?
Is it the chasm that forms if
we reject God, or the very idea
that such a thing is possible?
Calculate as we might with all
our might, we never reach zero.

@Home Studio – 220th poem of the year (After reading an article on Wikipedia about “Nothing.”)

“Nothing” Wikipedia. Page last edited 25 July, 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nothing.

Runner ups for the Nothing photos to accompany my poem:



Poetry, Writing

Stale Chips

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(Poem 219 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/8PPCfb

Is there anything more disappointing
than a full bag of stale corn chips?
The perfectly plump air-filled sack
promises a crisp, crackly, salty snack,
and the satisfying rip that breaks the
seal rewards the hungry with the
enticing aroma of oil-toasted corn.
The perfect chip is chosen for shape
and size, uniformity of potential crunch,
evenly distributed inherent saltiness,
and all it takes is one bite to experience
the soul-crushing softness of flaccidity.

@Home Studio on 8/18/24 @ 10:33pm – 219th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Stale Chips photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

sea salt surf

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(Poem 218 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/Q7K3Fs

sea salt on the wind
beached driftwood drying
jasmine and sweet cream
reeds suspended in oil
elocute the air with their
effusive particulates
demanding I return to
a bonfire on the beach
wearing a wind breaker
wishing someone would
hold my hand or find me
alluring like the waves
as the sand invades my
socks and the stars
wink at my impermanence.

@Home Studio – 218th poem of the year (Teen beach memories evoked by an oil infuser my bestie gave me as a gift.)

https://images.app.goo.gl/hbSHmkxvReMdqPVP8