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 *Poster* 24" H X 20" W Digital Art On
This Natal Day, I Hope And Existentially Pray That I May Be Worthy Of My Long Life, And Fill My Days With Song. Build Around Me Only Generosity, Deserve What I Have Cherished, And, In My Pride, Loved, This Side Of The Divide.
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Have Strung Christmas Lights, Red And Green, With Clusters Of White Between. They Glitter In The Night Like Fallen Stars Above Their Parked Cars. The Winter Feast Days Will Shine In Artificial Praise And Electric Cheer, To Mark The Ending Of The Year.  *Sappho* Fresco, Pompeii Words
Clamor To Be Said, And Put In Books To Be Read, Perhaps By Only One Kindred Soul, Is A Worthy Goal. After All, Fame Can Be Very Small, And Still Hold Time In Thrall.  *Figure With Wings* Cast Bronze 8 1/8" H Walnut Base We
Used To Say The Revolution Would Come Someday, Institutions Would Change, And Modern Life Would Rearrange. Peace And Love Were Valued Above The Trappings And Sparkly Wrappings Of Success. Nine To Five Would Fail To Keep Us Alive, And Regardless Of What We Had To Do, All This Time, More Than A Few Held Onto That View, And Some Of It Came True.  *Change* 4" H Cast Bronze The
Given, The Used To, The Familiar, Crash And Burn, Institutions Fall, The Weak Betray, Life Ceases To Obey, As We Labor To Find Our Way, And Learn To Live As Bridges Give And The Sea Grows Hot. We Can Only Cherish What We Hold Dear And Carry On, Despite Our Human, Constant Fear.  *Antonio Vivaldi 1678 -1741* Vivaldi
Breathlessly Legato Bows The Seasons In, The String Section A Delirious Spin, Bursts Into Spring, Tracks Summer In Its Glory, Gives Way To Autumn, Then To Winter’s Ancient Story, Whirling Through The Year’s Worth Of Days In Four Concertos Of Ecstatic Praise.  *She-Who-Listens* 12" H Carved Pine, Poplar Base Speak
It To The Wind, Dear Friend, I Will Hear, And Hold You Near. Spirits Entwine Your Life With Mine, As Close As Sea To Shore, Blood To Bone, And In Abiding Love, We Shall Never Be Alone.  Remembered
Voices, Calling, Calling, From Past Days That Were Enthralling, A Cascade Of Objects That I’ve Made Appear From Time’s Relentless Shade, Intersections Where I Walked, A Hundred Thousand Intervals Of Talk, All Are There, In The Storage Vault Inside My Head, Hovering Beneath My Chair, And Scattered Everywhere.  *Jules Feiffer* For
Years, He Came And Went, While She Worked With Strict Intent. He Had Fun, As Up She Went. There They Are, The Vagabond And The Star, Confident By Being Such Agile Dancers, They Have All The Answers. I Know How That Feels. I’ve Skated Through Life Like I Was On Wheels.  Hothouse
Roses On The Table Are Able To Push Away A Cold November Day, Which Was My Intent. Though Without Scent, The Flowers Possess Great Might, And Scatter Welcome Light, Each Blossom Clad In Winter White. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
August 2024
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