The Sky About to Cry

It is not quite full yet.

The yellow jacket nest is still.

The trees are awake to a grey brightness;

The still clouds are grey filled.

The last shower nests

On the pavement floor, but

The sun has not toweled it up in arms.

I am watching the moisture, which

tilting down to my feet asks me

to drink of fluids flowing

from another’s mouth.

Monet and Kimonos

This is how extreme things get. In Japan, if you are involved with festivals or the International Centers, often someone will try and get you into a Kimono. Take a look at what the Boston Museum of Fine Arts did. It is not so different from Art In Bloom here In MN….Here we do flower arrangement to match paintings. What they did in Boston promoted many many screams of protest. I think that it is a good example of the ridiculous state we have gotten into about things where people are just looking for any bizarre and extreme reason to shout about something. It is really sad that what could have been an enjoyable experience for young women to feel what it was like to wear a Kimono got turned into this belligerent kind of verbiage. .

http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/07/08/kimono-promotion-yields-to-outrage-at-bostons-museum-of-fine-arts/?_r=0

12 Basic Archetypes

.http://www.soulcraft.co/essays/the_12_common_archetypes.html

There are so many archetypes and Caroline Myss has a deck of them, which one can buy online.  I am not putting a link here, because I am not selling anything, but if you look her up you will find her card set online.

Poetic Metaphor: Symphony for Cross Country Storming

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(an old poem) The line winds are coming. They rumble like planes hidden in the clouds. Out the window my car sits naked to predicted bombardiers. I go about my day with this musical score thundering In the background like … Continue reading

Letting Go of Boundaries

Roll down to the middle of my back

Moderately curly

With dyed red bordering the bottom third–

Washed out many times and

Several years of seasons.

How long does this need to grow out

Till I submit to cutting off the border,

Which no longer belongs to me.

Reflection:  My hair it grows and grows, but falls..  I find it tangled with cat hair everywhere and bunches up in the laundry.  My hair is thinner and finer, but still lays down in wavy curls.  It sparks with streaks of silver.  Other places it has a Sandy color with more or less browns entwined… I’m waiting for it being long enough to cut the border off.  I’m waiting.  When finally the four or five inches I cut away of this remnant of other times, who will win the trophy, and will my intuition stray.

©Roseroberta

Metaphorical Writing3/1/2013

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The dishes haunt me, the book lain open gnawingly beckons amongst a theme of books all needing my eye, the cat stands like a statue and waits, the quarters’ faces spilled out on the table cast a glance at the … Continue reading