Writing

*A little poem I wrote back in 2009

To weave a plot,
To breathe life into a character,
To build a world beyond myself,
Is my passion.

To strike up interest,
To blur the rift between word and image,
To provide a means of escape,
Is my purpose.

To pour my heart onto the paper,
To express what I've never revealed,
To free what I have dreamed,
Is my reason.

To hold on until the end, 

To embrace the truth of time,
To keep this passion close,
Is my hope.

Still Life Painting

An acyrilic painting, done in 2009.

Irish Coast Painting

My very first acrylic painting, done in 2008.

Japanese Maple Painting

Acrylic painting, done in 2011.

Haikus 1

I.

The moon holds no light

Until it catches the sun

To reach through the dark.

II.

Dew shifts to vapor

As darkness merges with day

In steady transition.

III. 

Storms crash through the dark,

But pink blossoms will still bloom
In morning’s first light.

Castle Ruin Painting

An acrylic underpainting with a top layer of oil paint, done in April 2013.

Based on the original image: http://geograpcics.deviantart.com/art/Castle-Ruins-84784121

Quick Sketches 1

3-5 minutes each. Ink and charcoal. Drawing assignment on quick observation and translation; images based on other artworks or photos (thank you Pinterest!)

Solace (sonnet variation)

A squall unfolds over the sloping road,

Cloaking my rain-pecked face in fresh despair.

I rush forward, nearing the church alone

And hunch against the swoops of surging air.

My pain is not from heartbreak, guilt, or shame,

But sorrow of empty days pressing down.

The sidewalk breaks at the end of the lane,

And I enter my only home in town.

The soft darkness knits stillness over me.

I drift to the pews gentle light reveals.

Settling into prayer on bended knee,

I lay down the sadness I have concealed.

Comfort comes like feathers that slowly fall—

Heaven’s solace never fails when I call.

HSP

My porous neurons slurp up every noxious drop of nuance.

“Pause-to-check” is carefully printed inside my eyelids.

I stand all day on the edge of a decision,

Mouth shut and guts swimming.

One cup of “oops” spilled on me in the womb,

And it soaked into the threads of my nerves.

Tendencies now roll like tides.

In a world sodden with sense,

Visceral piques splash against the folds of my mind—

A pencil pecking against a desk jabs at my eardrums.

A shotgun cough firing off from across the room

Crashes down my spinal cord.

Every mistake immerses my anatomy,

Stirring the shameful brine of public tears.

I’ve always been somewhere between a shy, little flaw

And a girl without skin.