Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. W.B Yeats White and storm cloud ash, mingle with the forbidding thunderheads, above. A remnant […]Warsaw’s Ash — The Art of Life
Images: Pins andhttps://www.pexels.com/ Tiny, bony hands, groping for my golden hair. A mother, in flowers from head to toe, swaddling a toddler in a sling; with the likeness of a sickly mare. Wiggling free the heap of bones comes to me, on wobbly feet and a rounded, bloated, stomach. I scoop her up in my […]Ina son ku: I love you — The Art of Life
Star so bright; star so white // Will you lead me home tonight?
I’ve been locked to these bitter walls/ These chains have bound, my ancestors for far too long
Oh star so bright; star so white // They say you’ll guide me home tonight
My back is red; flowing in passion // Husband of my heart; swing’in on the hang’in tree
Star so bright; oh star so white // Massa says you’re a curse at night
When the coco whistles, my babie’s, they’ll be free / No longer bound; under the sun
Star so birthright; star so white // The moon is shining in your light
My meal is running with worms // Oh from the day’s toil my shoulders do burn
The owl screeches, my babies are warm
Oh star, I am counting on you tonight
This poem is, obviously, about a slave mama during the 1800’s, waiting for the call of those in the woods who will guide her and her children to freedom, and the north. The slaves said, that if you look to the handle of the big dipper in the sky, you’ll find the North Star; and if you keep following it, it’ll guid you to freedom, the North.
Just like how the North Star guided slaves across states and captains through perilous seas, Jesus is waiting there to guid us through our lives. One day, the North Star may burn out, but Jesus is everlasting; with palms wide open for us to grasp and hold close as we walk; they’ll hold you so you can’t trip or fall.
I wanted to portray the Mother in my poem with my photography; however, I did not have the right makeup or editing tools to make Glorianna appear black; so I have tried a new approach, using an oil pant look after I have used all the makeup I could play with. The links will be below.
The caption texts below the images are for you to know the stories behind the photography so that you can see how simple it is to use your own imagination!
My sister, The Art Of Life on WordPress: https://life15.art.blog/
For the face and contacts, I used the app, YouCam Makeup: https://www.perfectcorp.com/app/ymk
For the little bit of darkness added to the arms, neck and fingers, I used the Airbrush app: http://appairbrush.com/en/
For the oil paint and water looks, I used the app, Skin Tones, which can be found in the App Store.
For the darker skin, I used an app called Selfie Editor: https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/selfie-editor-face-cam-filter/id1056521360?mt=8
For the night sky and star, the app used is: http://www.photofoxapp.com/
Oh curse these hands! / They didn’t heal you!
I had hoped we’de be happy; / But that dream’s too far gone
Lying in a pool of blood; / This gun in my hand. / I killed you with it
Can I take back what I see? / You broke my heart and now you’re gone…
I don’t know why I did it/ You shouldn’t have pushed! / But I was wrong to seek you out
I close the door – leaving the dark to engulf you in. / oh they find me. / Little demons ripping at my heart.
You stay where you are / Don’t come alive. Don’t seek me / I’ll only tear you…apart
I still love you, but I’ve seen what I have become / I’ll change; so not to hurt / But it’s too late for us / Pack up your blood, and travel where you’ll be loved.
I won’t miss…you
It’s a lie
I often find myself writing things like this; I haven’t yet figured out why these works are called! Sometimes I have a vague idea of what I’m writing; but more often the words just flow from me and I don’t really know what I am writing. Afterward, when the flood is gone, I’ll look back over what I wrote, edit it, and then a story behind the words comes to my mind. I think that most of them are from God, as I feel I could ever write these on my own whim!
THE STORY BEHID THE WORK: The ‘writter’ is a woman, standing in a cement room with barred one window that lets blue light seep a little bit through. There is a metal door behind the woman who stands in full black leather…a pistol in her hand. At her feet is someone – a man- laying in his face, dark chrism pooling in a circle around him.
The woman comes from this story I read in Prepeairing to be A Healp Meet by Debi Pearl (link at end of post) and there was a woman who had torn her husband up and down with her words and attitudes until he decided to leave her. Long story short, he ended up finding another to love, who would treat him better.
So in my writing, the killer is a woman, who, represents a wife who has ‘killed’ her man by the words she used.
“Oh curse these hands!” She was supposed to be his helper, to comfort and, we’ll, help him and build him up. But she never used this great gift for him.
“Little demons riling at my heart.” Was originally going to be the police seeking her out; but then I decided it to be memories of what she’s done and the guilt.
“You stay where you are / don’t come alive….” She does not want her man to come back to her; she knows that though she has changed, she wants him to go some where else and be loved. By someone else who will not make the same mistakes that she did and ruin him again.
“I still love you…” Though she loves him desperately, it is the same story as above. She promises to change, but just cannot take the risk of him coming back to her again.
“Pack up your blood….” He has another that will love him; and the woman encourages him to do so. Though she will be angry at him, she just does not want to hurt the man again; let another do what she never did.
I was leaning up against shelves of folded tank tops in Walmart, pushing the shopping cart slightly back and forth with my toe; trying not to look too crazy with TEN loafs of bread, FOUR jugs of milk, SIX dozen eggs, FOUR cases of water (the pipes are full of rust from previous earthquakes.) and a thousand other items that stacked well above the cart while I waited for my Mom to come…. with the second cart. (Struggles of a large family 🙈) An old, bending man came down the isle I was in; pushing his heavy wife in her wheelchair – and a full shopping cart in the other hand! He was rushing around grabbing all the things his wife demanded for him to grab or for her to look at. I was thinking about how sweet this man was, specially as he seemed to be in more pain than his wife in the shopping cart! but I was shocked, his wife was yelling at him and constantly berating him, telling him that he never did anything right and how (litteraly) stupid and irritating he was! She was acting like SHE was better than him and he was stupid. (Often the view of men these days) He husband was being so sweet and not uttering a sing word the interest time, but just going back to the same shelve five times or more until the woman dedcided exactly what color she wanted. I really wanted to just go up to her and say, “If you spent less time trying to fix your man, and just enjoy him for who he truly is; you’ll both be so happy!” Regretfully, I let fear overcome me and I wanted them both leave. I waited for another ten minutes before mom came, in guilt at having missed such an obvious moment form God; then asked him to forgive me and somehow let that woman know the truth!!
Serksuly, nothing more needs to be said; If you STOP trying to FIX you man, and just ENJOY him for who he IS; then you’ll both me SO much more happy! Please, notice how sweet your man TRULY is ladies! It’s always irking me the way society treats men these days; they really are truly trying! Let’s not murder them with our actions and words, and use these hands that were placed in their’s that white day. 🙂
And now some of my photography of Dad (sense I’m not married lol) to express this post….
Preparing to be a Help Meet: http://nogreaterjoy.org/blogs/preparingtobeahelpmeet/book/
No Greater Joy: https://nogreaterjoy.org/
New Orleans Preaching Trip: https://youtu.be/HXlMY3cXJK0
Speak Life: https://youtu.be/ZeBv9r92VQ0
Thank you for taking the time to read ya’ll!
~My Life as a Photographer
My world is black and white
Like an only fashioned reel, my world does spin
All else’s colors fade from view
The only ones remaining in my world is crimson
Where are you light? Why are you only white?
Shall I lay down and be dissolved?
Or does my hope set somewhere else?
Speak to me, grains in the film
Where should my heart lie tonight?
I’m sorry, black and white photography remind me of aloneness and fear…