Philomela

michelledevilliersart:

Voce muto today: NaPoWriMo26 (ReBlog)

Originally posted on michelledevilliersartandstories:

The Nightingale Le Chanson du Rossignol: Canción de la RuiSeñora
Collage of a Torn Girl; Michelle de Villiers; Creative Commons

Philomela sad

lives in nightingale’s sweet song

rossignol the key

View original

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Hospice Eyes

Hospice Eyes, Acrylic Monotype

Hospice Eyes

hospice eyes

no deck of cards

no shelf of books

a world shrunk to a bed with rails

eyes light up as you grit

your teeth at hospice wails

who are you again my dear? do sit!

(acrylic monotype)

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Blind Edges

Blind Edges

Blind Edges

my eyes, my sensors,

scan the crimson pomegranate on the darkened table:

clenched kernels, a brain-fist;

some loose ones swimming- like the smallest squid

in a shadow sea

…before the picture then, came the sensor eye,

…then culture handprinted on cave walls

…those grunts floating between apes

…at last flattened into print…

these pomegranates are not conversing;

they have now turned black,

like an art statement of the cave hour;

my blind edges stay frayed,

but the pomegranates jeer with ghoulish faces

and ignite the  flee or fight response

(should we teach our machines to think in pictures first?)

my mirrored eyes of blind insight focus inward:

maybe our culture will desert us

and so too our consciousness,

when our mismanaged earth starts boiling

and a phase change

turns us back into rocks.

(pfff)

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Gatado

Chatte Noire

Gata Negra

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Spoon-Fed (NaPoWriMo#17)

A Pouring-out of small Wings

A Pouring-Out of Small Wings; 20″x30″; Acrylic

quinoa kernels float
void of social glue snorting
selfies of distress

Spoon-Fed-Up

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Pup And Old Bat (Dinsdag Dialoog)

Bat Cavé Conversation

Young Pup and Old Bat

He stands so tall and is so chivalrous;

my heart frolics in baroque melody!

I dream only of open sesame

and savour romance and a love wondrous.

I fear I know this:

Scoundrel of the first degree

Bitter tears will pass

I will study hard for independence;

Work all day and night to achieve my best!

Passing my degree well, the acid test!

This, and pure love will lead to transcendence!

Do what you love best

And forget about the rest

Life is too short dear

This is a fantastic blood group diet!

Now I’ll lose those pesky extra pounds!

Their promise strong of health and beauty sounds!

I can do this; I will not be quiet!

Just eat your greens, child

Also get good exercise

Drink lots of water

Oh, I can not abort the precious gift,

if I do, sure to fiery end I’ll go.

It might even be Michaelangelo.

Mum, will this life then be a living hell?

This is your choice my love

You yourself are worthy too

No slave to small slip

(H/T: Dialogue prompt for Day Fourteen)

I am sick :(

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Riddled

Riddle

the first:

corkscrewed, schnozzled, with long-digit dukes

he midwives ink; feeds it imagination,

then slaughters it; cuts it down to size

(not a butcher)

the second:

taut, patient, oh-so-balanced,

she kneads the lumps of dough, gets them to rise

to her expectations

(not a baker)

the third:

skeletal, soft-spoken journeyman,

he saws and hammers; hums

-no walking on water-

(not a candle-stick maker)

(H/T; also Writing 101, day six)

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Sapphic  Ire

  

Now, what can I say:

The dog ate my homework today.

(Apologies; H/T: NHM)

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NaPoWriMo#10: Beastie Abecedarian

Beastie Abecedarian

(Friday Feline meets Friday Field Mouse)

A one-sided stand-off was occurring

between the window and the birdhouse;

cat whiskers slightly trembling,

deconstructing seeds: the field mouse

ever-twitching rodent fluff ball,

foraging for food with cheeky grin

good neighbours made by this glass wall

he outside and she within

inside the exasperation rose:

jiggling shivers ran across her fur,

kitten’s nostrils wide on her pink nose

lightly vibrating in a strangled purr

more twitching consumed the feline frame,

nose now pressed against the window pane

oh, let me out, that mouse is game!

perturbations, as she miaowed in vain

quite ignorant of her palpitations,

rather nonchalant he rises on his haunches;

stares with now-nascent suspicions

towards where an evil shadow launches:

ugly intentions from that thud emanate!

verily, he has a sudden epiphany:

why be sorry? he hightails for the garden gate,

excited though to be the subject of such scrutiny

yonder smart field mouse, for now, free,

zooms away, squeaking with rodentish glee.

(OK, I am out of time; H/T: today’s prompt)

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BarrelEye PalinOde: NaPoWriMo #8

BarrelEye ode

In response to today’s prompt: a petit palinode. See the shapely eightly möbius, and the spooky tubular barrel eye!

(If only the news were better.)

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