To offer creative inspiration to a fellow-artist
seems, to me, one of the richest gifts
we might ever give, or receive.
Resa is a professional costume designer, and this is her 4th in an exciting series of “art gowns” featured on her blog.
She explained that she was inspired to design this one for me, after enjoying many of my writings and photos here, featuring sea, sky and love. I could not be more touched and honored, and thus wanted to share this magnificent gown, fit for a goddess, with all of you today. My poem, above, flowed from my pen and heart, almost instantly, after seeing Blue Venus for the first time. Clearly Resa must have intuitive powers, only having asked me about my favorite colors – and creating this fantasy gown that I truly adore.
Hope you enjoyed, and be sure to visit Resa at her Blog, Blue Venus « Queen’s end to see more photos of this stunning gown, and to learn additional details about the birth of her masterpiece. Thank you beautiful Resa ~ I will forever cherish this most incredible gift of your art.
Much Love Always
I’d not the
But I must
a poetic prose
excerpted from the poem
By D. H. Lawrence
The proper way to eat a fig, in society,
Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump,
And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied,
heavy-petalled four-petalled flower.
Then you throw away the skin
Which is just like a four-sepalled calyx,
After you have taken off the blossom with your lips.
But the vulgar way
Is just to put your mouth to the crack,
and take out the flesh in one bite.
Every fruit has its secret.
The fig is a very secretive fruit.
As you see it standing growing,
you feel at once it is symbolic:
And it seems male.
But when you come to know it better,
you agree with the Romans,
it is female.
The Italians vulgarly say, it stands for
the female part; the fig-fruit:
The fissure, the yoni,
The wonderful moist conductivity
towards the centre.
The flowering all inward and womb-fibrilled;
And but one orifice.
The fig, the horse-shoe, the squash-blossom.
There was a flower that flowered inward, womb-ward;
Now there is a fruit like a ripe womb.
It was always a secret.
That’s how it should be,
should always be
And for even more fascinating information about this sacred, and sultry fruit :
Ever notice that sometimes friends show up at just the right moment…
offering encouragement and inspiration,
not by doing anything specific,
but rather, by simply
Last Thursday while I was venturing out to run an errand, following a rather difficult and isolating week,
my cell- phone rang and it was Meryl… a dear long-time friend who resides in my community.
Meryl also happens to be a member of our cherished blogsphere.
We have been friends here since my mid 20s, sharing in so many important
transitional periods of each other’s lives.
We decided to meet, and hang out for a bit on a comfy bench facing our favorite Lily Pond.
It was such a delight to relish in some old-fashioned “girl-power” that day–a few giggles and tears,
reflections and hugs…And as we gazed at the emerging Lilies, I shot this photo of our adjoined shadows.
Later that evening, Meryl composed a heartwarming poem and created a
special post honoring our bond of friendship. I am so thrilled to share
this with each of you today.
from the east
There’s nothing like bonding with
a girlfriend. Here’s me and Robyn Lee
hanging out on a bench with some lily pads.
Yep, we go way back… when our girls were
romping (sometimes butt naked ) on the beach.
We met at a day care center… new moms and
newcomers in this breathtaking yet lonely
place…both looking for a friend.
Then life and illness got in the way.
We had rarely spoken or seen one another
for years and years until Robyn came over for tea to
celebrate my birthday this past March. That day she shared
how she had discovered photography via her new blog—
Through The Healing Lens—how it was helping her
reconnect with the world after being isolated due
to her medical challenges and chronic pain.
Ironic, since I’m a photographer yet it…
View original post 70 more words
The secret valley beneath the sun
Hidden behind the whispering ghosts
Of whom you pretend to be
Open up your mossy arms
So I may open mine
And wrap all limbs round your spirit wide
To exist as half no more
Bring me to your mossy floor
Beneath the shadows of your fear
A raven bride in white
A ladder to your soul
Fold down your branches
Peel open your chocolate bark
So I may pour
As liquid amber
Through your very veins
by, Sam Craft
I am thrilled to share this collaborative project with you today. Special thanks to Sam of of Everyday Asperger’s, who penned this stunning piece entitled The Raven Bride in White at the most perfect time to accompany my beloved shadow image.
Hope you enjoyed!
Much Love ~ Robyn Lee