The Onion

The onion, now that’s something else.
Its innards don’t exist.
Nothing but pure onionhood
fills this devout onionist.
Oniony on the inside,
onionesque it appears.
It follows its own daimonion
without our human tears.

Self Portrait

…

A self-portrait at a retreat brought out the artists in all women. At first a bit hesitant, we quickly had fun and started painting a vision that we don’t often share. How do we see ourselves, not with the eye, but deep inside us?

Dream of Spring (1827)

I dreamt of bright flowers 

that blossom in May;

I dreamt of green meadows 

and merry bird-calls.

If I would Be a Tree

If I were a tree,
I could stand there still.
I would sink deep into my roots and
rest from the haste of life.

When My Sorrow Was Born

When my Sorrow was born I nursed it with care, and watched over it
with loving tenderness.

He Is Mine

***

His head on my shoulder
I feel his breath on my neck
A quick kiss, then a deep sigh
Letting me know that he is happy

Sometimes You Just Don’t Fit In

Not fitting in, is not always a bad thing.
Sometimes we have to be true to ourselves.
Sometimes we just aren’t in the mood.

Song Lyrics – “No, I Will Not Give My Sons”

A friend in Germany sent me the link to a song, and I would like to share it with all my blogging friends. The lyrics are in German, sung by many famous European artists who all decided to not ask for any kind of pay or reimbursement to be able to participate in this powerful arrangement.

Violence – How does it start?

It probably started
in a whisper, a murmur,
a low tone hardly caught by the papers,
a sticker, a poster,
a brick wall with slogans in fresh black paint

Self-conscious Cage

How dare we let a glossy page
trap us in a self-conscious cage?

It’s criminal.
It’s cruel.
It sets us up for our fall.