Tag Archives: Art

Poetry, Writing

Lesson 19 The Way of the Wizard

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(Poem 193 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“Look upon desire as the willingness to receive what God wants to give.” – Merlin, The Way of the Wizard    

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/N7hzab

The only way to escape perpetual
immaturity is to ache to go beyond
the boundaries we have set for
ourselves as acceptable, normal,
safe, and comfortable in the now.
We must stretch outward through
the discomfort of reaching for what
we do not yet recognize as reality
to grasp ahold of our destiny and
allow desire to materialize again
and again and again until we see
that the direct path to God has
been our longing all along in the
form of wishes and needs we did
not even understand as yearning
for the perfection of pure love.

@Erica’s – 193rd 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.129-135.

Runner ups for the Arthur crown photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Old Friend

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(Poem 192 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/zE8jZQ

Lunch with an old friend
is always a nice time to
catch up on family and
career, health and goals,
to reconnect over tales
of the past, memories of
the trials by fire and joys
we endured, tolerated,
and survived in the line
of duty that is a niche
experience most cannot
fathom, nor relate to.

Something about talking
through the time spent
in the trenches of yesterday
reminds us that the alternate
reality that was our daily
existence was real and vital,
and still being here to
talk about it confirms that
we are okay, our sacrifices
mattered and are not forgotten,
at least by us, as long as we
whisper our stories out loud.

@Erica’s – 192nd poem of the year (After lunch with Debbie Rice-Hutchison.)

Poetry, Writing

Summer Bouquet

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(Poem 191 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/xvH8ZZ

Interlaced stems braided
to create structure beneath
the surface soak in nutrients,
nourish new opening buds,
hold strong fully-flared,
freshly-ripened flowers of
cerulean, cardinal red, plum,
violet, magenta, tangerine,
and pops of bright sunflower.

@Erica’s – 191st poem of the year

Runner ups for the bouquet photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Uter-Us

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(Poem 190 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/Sa2iIv https://gencraft.ai/p/WKPxbw   https://gencraft.ai/p/pOcgWm

The uterus is a universe
of endometrial enchantment,
a whispering womb,
a reproductive realm,
a cervical sanctuary,
and the cradle of life;
the hormonal harmony
in that pelvic paradise
creates menstrual magic
from the ovarian orbit
and fallopian fantasy that
results in a cycle symphony

…until it becomes something else…

a pelvic painscape
due to hormonal havoc
that creates womb woes
due to cervical crisis,
ovaries who are outraged,
frustrated fallopian tubes,
endometrial eruptions,
menstrual mayhem,
cycles of chaos,
a fertility fiasco,
and the reproductive riot
that brings only destruction.

@Home Studio – 190th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Uterus photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Bloody Mary

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(Poem 189 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

Catoptromancy
Dark room
Single candle
Running water
Spin 3 times
Look in the mirror
Ghostly corpse
Chanting her name
Bloody Mary
Bloody Mary
Bloody Mary

 @Home Studio – 189th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Bloody Mary photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Playing in the Creek

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(Poem 188 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

I remember the sound of cicadas
as we found frogs in the mud on the
banks of the creek we weren’t really
supposed to be playing in because
my father was certain we were going
to somehow drown in the three feet
of water that trickled and pooled
and invited us siren-like to the middle.
I remember pretending to like fishing
because my older cousin Tim was
collecting worms, and I wanted him
to think I was mature for a little girl
and not squeamish at all about the
wriggling, squirming, slippery, slimy
bits that had to be impaled tip to tail.
I remember the grown-ups always
sitting around sipping sweet tea in
the most boring looking way and
doing nothing but talking and eating
and occasionally laughing or yelling
at one of us to shut the door or quit
coming in and out, and I was certain
I would never want to sit around like
them and be boring when I grew up.

@Home Studio – 188th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Creek photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Coffee Cacophony

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(Poem 187 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/a9RJoh

You doin’ ok?
the barista asks someone looking at the menu
You’ve got to be hot because I’m hot
my husband says to me
Unidentifiable ethnic-sounding earth music plays
over the speakers chanting comforting spells
A soprano’s laugh bubbles up above all the other sounds
I’m fine
a tenor responds to someone who asks
My husband whispers or raps or sings to himself
perhaps he is reading out loud, it could be any of the above
because he is rarely silent for long
You’ve lost one of your lenses
a woman says to the elderly man she cares for
I know, he says
does she think he is unaware that he can only half-see?
freeway
I was trying to draw you
spiral
London Fog
to be clear
I think we all know
it’s a reservoir
keep going, Dude
really hammer it home
when I’m on stage
I’m not racist or homophobic
not on purpose
there is a monster
how cute
Chai
Hello
A blender and cups being bussed are the percussive elements that were missing.
Tea-Jasmine
Someone knocks loudly on the restroom door
one-two-three-four in quick succession
and a phone whistles
it just got real

@Genuine Joe’s – 187th poem of the year

Runner ups for the coffee shop photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Fireworks

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(Poem 186 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

Fireworks make my daughter’s emotions swell,
a lump in the throat, eyes fill, heart tight, why?
The beauty of communal celebration, delicate
power on display, explosion of color against a
black background, the artist’s palette consisting
of aluminum and titanium for bright white stars,
copper for the luminous blue, barium for green,  
strontium and lithium salts for red, sodium yellow,
calcium orange, the light like a warning, reaching
our eyes a bit before the slower sound can assault
our ears, rattle our chests, and make us nostalgic
for our own births and deaths…the short answer—
she resonates with the message the fireworks
attempt to share, the poetry of imitating the stars.

@Genuine Joe’s – 186th poem of the year



Poetry, Writing

Echoes of the Future

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(Poem 184 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/rUA3Kt   https://gencraft.ai/p/k2G0lW    https://gencraft.ai/p/UdPZrD

My mother’s voice was
a bit exasperated at the
absence of anyone home.
I did not hear the door
behind her as she left,
but hurried to let her know
I was there and say hello.
I opened the front door;
she was already in her car
but she turned off the engine
when she saw me and
decided to come back in,
or so I thought…
In her reality, she just
arrived, had not yet stepped
foot in the house, had felt
no annoyance at the absence
of anyone and made no sound.
What future echo did I hear
that never even happened?

@Genuine Joe’s – 184th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Echoes photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Cougar

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(Poem 181 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/VlE1pf  https://gencraft.ai/p/51XcWB

According to society,
a woman of a certain
age should guard her
propriety and seek only
suitors who are older.
If she happens to find
herself drawn to a man
of younger persuasion,
she is depicted by those
who have opinions as a
wild hunter who laid
in wait to pounce on
some unsuspecting
man-child and forced
him to mind his manners.
When the roles are
reversed, there is little
batting of eyes because
double standards always
seem to benefit those
who sit on the biggest
thrones in the patriarchy.

@Home Studio – 181st poem of the year (after watching The Idea of You.)

The Idea of You, Showalter,Michael, Amazon Prime Video, 16 March, 2024, Hathaway, Anne.

Runner ups for the Cougar photos to accompany my poem: