Confessions of a Craftaholic

Tag: poetry

ATC Week: Day 4

So I completed my set of 20 ATCs for this Mega swap that I’m in! This is the final 5 ATCs which incorporate a poem I wrote some time ago.

I’ll show you the pics of the ATCs, then I’ve posted the poem up, for you to read. The ATC version is slightly different, since I just felt inspired to do it that way.

 

You like it? These are just cut up pieces of cardstock, with cotton yarn wrapped around it, and then gessoed. After that, I painted it with watercolors. The words came from my typewriter, and then I glued them and colored them with PAN pastels.

So that’s that, really.  That last one is talking about my brother, if you want to know.

Since I do not have those cool little clear cases to send them in, I’ll be making my own. I got an ATC in the mail with a cool handmade envelope so I am using it as my template! Cool, right?  The only thing is that I have to make 20 of them. Good grief.

Tomorow will mark the end of my ATC week, so I hope you like what I have in store for tomorrow.

 

And, now for the poem:

 

Yesterday

when my

grandmother sang to me

taught me needlepoint and lace

crochet

and told me about jesus

(she of course, was the only one I believed)

yesterday

before the earth shattered

and

death followed

yesterday

I’m

reminded of the song

“Oh, I believe in yesterday…”

yesterday

when my father sang songs written by

George Harrison

John Lennon and

Paul McCartney

at night, to help me sleep

yesterday

when I gave birth to my daughter

just push

one two three, push

yesterday

now she sleeps on my shoulder and shakes her almost four year old hips.

yesterday

when I kissed her shoulder as she lay on my belly, naked

still purple

yesterday

when she called me momma in the

book store in park slope

the woman next to me looked and smiled

yesterday

when we were in love

when we were in love

but that particular yesterday, it’s today

it’s today that I love him and

he love me

yesterday he was a good boy

yesterday

the other was not

yesterday when he told me to go to college

yesterday

when I did not.

yesterday when I saw him in the kitchen

yesterday

I think I heard him laughing

holding the baby I lost years ago

yesterday

when I dreamed of all I have now

yesterday

when I became my own

yesterday

it’s all yesterday

blended to today

even now

right now

it’s yesterday

and now we look back and think

“Ah, yesterday, when life was simple….”

But it’s all yesterday

It all fades and blends in

like old jeans washed too often

like his old tattered tee shirt

or

cowboy boots so worn

that’s life

a collage of yesterdays

……………

I choose today.

 

 

The point of the poem is that we look around at the past so much sometimes, that we forget to look at the beauty of the present day. Yesterday may have brought pain but today is where we are at now.

I hope you like my art and my poem.

 

 

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The Craftaholic

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Inspiration Thursday

“Heaven never helps the man who will not act.”

-Sophocles

I can

dream a thousand dreams

have a thousand wishes

of what I wish to be

and what I LONG to be true

I can

hope

and dream

and wish

and no one can take that away from me

but no one can make them happen

but me.

no one can create the dreams in my mind

but me

no one can get up and choose to be unafraid

but me

and in order to walk, one must

actually move and

actually put one foot

in front

of the other and

choose to be

unafraid of the future

don’t be afraid of forever

be afraid of never was

and

walk

move

step

towards

you

towards

your dreams

create them

for no one can make them happen

but you.

The Craftaholic

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POEM: Questions my daughter asks me

I’m writing a poem today, because I’ve been on a poetry kick. Don’t worry, I won’t forget about today’s inspiration thursday.

 

Questions

questions my daughter asks me:

why am I a woman

what makes me a woman

why am I a “mommy”

and I tell her:

daughter I was born a woman

with a female body

and the mind of a woman

and hips

and with the power

to carry life inside me

questions my daughter asks me:

why do I make art

why do I write

how do I know how to sing

like a bird

And I tell her:

I make art to escape the world

I write poems to become a part of the world

and I sing

because I can.

questions my daughter asks me:

she asks me

why is Tio Johnny in the grass?

why is your abuela in the grass?

and I tell her:

a long time ago, the universe took my brother Johnny away from me

my hero

my big brother

the one who smiled and the room lit up

and one day

before I formed a life on my own

my grandmother

my abuela

the only REAL mother I had

she left me

while I sang to her, her favorite pentecostal hymns

while she, surrounded by light

surrounded by her offspring

she breathed her last breath

questions my daughter asks me:

mommy why did I grow in your belly?

why did you push me out?

how was I born?

and I tell her:

you grew in my belly from the greatest love in the world that I had

and I pushed you out

into a room filled with superstitious red candles and

old jazz music

and one doctor telling me to push

and you were born

from the greatest love within me

children are born from love

from the greatest primal source between two people

and they come into the earth

to teach us what it is

to truly love another

 

POEM: Intentions

Chatting with a writing friend of mine these days has prompted me to write some new poems.

Here’s an oldie, from my journal that I’ve redone. This one was written while I attended a writer’s group of an old acquaintance of mine. We were supposed to write about our intentions, so here it is.

It’s called, “Intentions”

Intentions

strange fertility of the mind

(my intentions)

creative dances

I’ll perform

eight hours

of entertaining

my offspring, whilst also creating

making

being

that is the dance of life

and the dance herein,

in this room

in this place

with strangers and others.

now fertility of the mind

comes

in little blips

orbs of happenings

introductions

(I talk too much, don’t talk too much)

breathe

emotion

wonder

mystery

coffee stains on my jacket

speak of my intentions

it’s like giving birth

breathe now

just push now

123 push

creativity is birthed while my offspring naps

in small little orbs

now she, my offspring

she catches the blips for me

while playing with my buddha statue

I speak of intentions

pleading with her, as Jim Morrison did:

“grant us one more hour to preform our art and perfect our lives…”

yes.

please, I plead

to the universe and my offspring:

just sleep a little longer….?

Poems for New York City

Here’s a few poems I wrote some years ago, inspired by the Big Apple.

The first one is called, “City of Sadness

Busy sidewalks

salvation armies that march

praying

for rain

horses tired

pass me

sad lonely trees in the

middle

sad little leaves fall

city of sad leaves and

parking lots

dirty coins on dirty sidewalks with

black gum

holiday season

snowflakes

tourists

preachers preaching of

ill fate

air so cold

the birds have frozen wings

frozen n flight

frozen in time

like they remember

when life was simple

when people were happy

city of sadness

now only poor long faces

dark and dreary

“oh wasn’t like so simple then….”

when

oh city of sadness

once upon a time

life was simple

when people were few

when everyone knew god

when my abuela graced my home

when she

mothered me

clothed me

fed me

now only I, a bastard child

I drudge on

now storms destroy

now anger kills

and rage lives on

and no one knows god

oh city of sadness

your attraction is your curse

——————-

so that one there, is just me venting about New York City in the winter. It’s about what I see, through living in NYC.

This next one is litterally me sitting on the F train, writing about the people I see. Jim Morrison used to do this, and I do it as well. When you’re in a writing slump, I highly reccomend going to a public place, and just writing about what you see. You’ll be suprised what comes out!

It’s called, “F Train

reflections on a graffittied window

tainted

stained with coffee

strangers appraching god

with a

cautious je ne sais qua

oh fearless leader, show me the way!

the stench of urine and cigarettes

I think the conductor is smoking again

babies crying

my offspring sleeping

people shouting at robots and engine parts

all the while I’m

dancing with the wind

shuffling about in a

lady like manner

gentle

I

creep about

mouth closed

sealed shut

while my offspring slumbers

here’s my stop.

—————————-

The Craftaholic

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POEM-Lessons of life, and other ramblings

Today I wrote a poem. It’s been a while since I blog any of my poems, so I hope you don’t mind this little poem I wrote. It gets dark, I warn you. But there is light at the end of the tunnel.

This poem is called, “Lessons of life, and other ramblings”

life.

city.

ramblings.

running

catch the train

pay the rent

smoke a cigarette and think about the weather

mechanical creatures that sleep in the night, we are

life.

It happens.

life.

It’s some sort of lesson, some sort of…

greater good

is teaching me

to just

be

they sleep at night and don’t bother to think about

the consequences

of blackness

of sadness rendered unto me

I lost what was mine

to a choice ill made

now I have no choice

but to live my life

the best I can

and choose to be happy

because what else is there?

no one

no one

no one

NO ONE can take

me

away

from me.

Lessons of life

they come in small orbs

in between sips of coffee and menstrual pain

I see illuminations of

what will be

whilst still, they lie there snoring

through it all

And I laugh like a mad woman

laughing at the possibilities

laughing at what is

and what will be

what could be

and what I will make happen

lessons of life:

I can complain

and complain

and complain about things and nonsense

about the past, and it’s shadows

about the future and it’s worries

and life itself will pass me by

and by

and by

and it will not wait for me,

as I sit and worry about tomorow

as I sit and become bitter about the past.

life keeps going

things keep moving

so I

keep going

and I keep moving

and I choose

my future.

because I

create

and I choose to create

beauty.

Day 359: A Matchbox Filled with Earrings

Quote:

“But when the individual is able to fully experience this clear light, he or she is on the way to true liberation and full enlightenment.”

The Dalai Lama

So today, I’m going to translate yesterday’s poem.

Again, it’s called

I dreamed I was an Owl

In another life

In another time

I saw the Owl

I saw her

In the desert, alone I was

In a land that never saw daylight

she spoke to me

gave me a

cigarette

an a rosary

In another life

In another place

I saw myself on the highest

mountain

But still in the desert, was I

On the highest mountain top

with the sacred, shaman owl

with arms raised in a V

I stretched them out

and became

the sacred

the shaman

the owl

So this poem is actually a reoccuring dream that I have. When I wake up, I can still feel the wings on my back, and I can feel what it is like to fly like a bird. It’s so surreal that it gave me a love for owls quite deeply.

Anyway, this poem really to me, highlights what the Dalai Lama spoke about.

You’ll notice I didn’t blog yesterday. That’s because I went to my friend Yoshi’s house, and quite forgot about the time! She has a little girl who’s ten and loves my daughter. My daughter didn’t want to go home, she had so much fun! And I had fun too, of course. Yoshi has her own craft room, which is quite nice. I ended up getting home late, and had to take a cab home, because I was too tired.

Anyhow in all the rush I forgot my camera! I could not believe it, my life is my camera. So the pics here are from my hubby’s camera phone. You’ll forgive the low-res pics.

I made these earrings last night and this morning. These are for a swap, of course. I love making jewelry because it’s such functional art, you know?

Anyway, the swap is one that I hosted, where you get a matchbox and dress it up, then fill it with five pairs of earrings. I wish I could show you the box, but the computer software is giving me grief. So, when I find a way to import the pics again, I’ll post them.

The Craftaholic

Day 358: Altoid Tin Fairy Box and a Poem en Español

Quote:

“According to tantra, the ultimate nature of mind is essentially pure. This pristine nature is technically called “clear light.”

-The Dalai Lama

Clear light. wow. The one thing that makes me think about this quote, is a reoccurring dream that I have often. It is actually what made me love owls so much. It’s in Spanish, sorry. I will try to translate it, tomorrow. It’s called:

I dreamt I was an Owl

En otra vida

en otro tiempo

Yo vi a la lechuza

lo vi

en el desierto, sola

en la noche que no cambiava ha dia

me hablo

me dio un cigarillo

y un rosario

En otro tiempo

en otra vida

me vi, yo

en una montaña altisimo

Pero en un desierto, si la monaña

con magos

con lechuzas

y la lechuza shaman

Alze las manos

y me converti

a la lechuza

shaman

la lechuza majica

Y haci

soy

So that’s that. It’s a poem about me, and owls. What can I say, I dream of owls.

Anyway, today I got crafty (and chatty) with a friend of mine. We made these cute fairy boxes out of altoid tins. Check out some shots.

A messy workspace, because that’s how I roll.

This is Leann. She’s lots of fun, and a great listener. I was QUITE the chatterbox today. QUITE. But I always am. Back when I was dating, I’d tell my first dates, “you’re never going to have that awkward silence with me”. Because truly, you won’t. I like to talk.

Opening a package of fantasy fiber, by Art Institute. OMG. Love this stuff. I do.

This is what we made. Mine is on the right. I used the “Dazzlers” glitter by Art Institute glitter, and their glue. Actually, not just because because I’m a guest designer for them, but I really love their glue a lot. It’s strong, and it dries quick. Anyhow, here’s the insides of mine:

I’m not sure if I’m done with it. And yeah, the glue was still drying. I wanted to catch the perfect shot, with just the right sunlight, so there it goes. I used the Art Institute Fantasy Fiber for the top background, and some dollar store fake moss for the bottom. You like it? I do. It’s cute, and simple.

Oh, and here’s a tip for you. Instead of buying blank tins, just recyle your old altoid tins. I lined the embossed lid with chipboard, to make it a flat surface to work on. And yes, Art Institute Glue works best!

Actually, I was thinking of how fun it would be to make a hole bunch of these, as little rooms, to make a whole “house” of altoid tins! Wouldn’t that be something?

Tomorow is Labor Day, and my husband is working. So I’m off to my friend Yoshi’s house, to get crafty and catch up on some swaps.

The Craftaholic

Day 346: Wool Felt, with friends

Quote:

“We should reexamine our own attitude toward others. Before pointing our finger at others we should point it toward ourselves.”

-The Dalai Lama

I can look within myself

instead of pointing

and looking

and accusing

I can just change

evolve

grow

within myself

within me

instead of seeing what others do

and accusing others

of the mistakes you’ve made

Should we not just

seek the answers within?

So that’s that. Yesterday I held a workshop at the Brooklyn Bead box. We made the wool felt beads that I’ve been making. It was fun! We chatted, and worked with the wool roving. So much fun! Although no one wished to be photographed, I still got some good shots.

Here’s what I made.

Nice, right? I realized in that one of the swaps that I’m in on swap-bot, my partner is my personal friend! Cool, right? This necklace happens to be her favorite colors, so as much as I love this necklace, I’ll be sending it to my friend. Here’s some pics of the action yesterday.

I only wish that my workspace were as big as this, and that I had that many tools and supplies. That’d be nice.

So that’s that! What is on the spectrum today? Not sure. I normally have to catch up on emails and such on sundays, but luckily, I did that already! Yipee! So I’m unsure. Should I visit my parents in NJ or should I just stay home and make art with my little one? Hmmm. Well I am still not sure. I do have a couple things to catch up on. But it’s supposed to rain Tuesday and Wednesday too, so maybe I’ll visit my parents. We’ll see.

The Craftaholic

Day 327: A Set of Chunky Houses

Quote:

“We must be prepared to admit our faults and stand corrected.”

The Dalai Lama

I admit it sometimes

not all the time

I

sometimes let pride

get in the way

I just

want to put up a good face

I want to

show you who’s boss

I want to

be a little fake

so my ego will be satisfied

b ut in reality

I’m wrong

sometimes.

I’ve been writing a lot of poetry lately. I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been doing so because I went thru months where I wasn’t writing and was only making art, but I love my poems, and I have been thinking about putting my poetry out there a bit more. So that’s what I’m doing.

Can you believe that the 365 day mark is almost over? Yes, indeed! I’ll find a way to celebrate, don’t worry.

Today, I made a set of 5 chunky houses for a swap. We were supposed to make paper houses and decorate them to our wish.

So that’s that. I’m not sure if they are finished yet. I might add more to it. I used tattered angels frames, and vintage music sheets for it.

Today, my husband has the day off, so we’re going to enjoy the hot weather today, at least until 2pm when supposedly, it’s going to start raining.

The Craftaholic