A Story...

I tell the story of the fallen stars...

The Great Mother created the universe... Her womb, the great expanse of the sky, spun forth the sun, moon, earth, rivers, forests, oceans, mountains, and all the creatures and creations that went in between.

With her masterpiece done, the Great Mother wept with such joy and ferocity, her tears became brilliant stars that filled the sky. So happy were the stars for their birth that they danced and shined for all creation to see. But some danced so fast and shined so bright, that they fell and tumbled to the earth. And when the stars tumbled down, they fell so hard and burned so fast that they forgot who they were or where they came from.

These stars, now fallen, wandered the earth in search of who they were, day by day their brilliance dimming, year by year, their light fading away, forgotten with their past.

And with time, came history, giving them new names and new beginnings. And with new beginnings came homes, children, stories, purpose. Their old existence lost, they created a new one.

And as the Great mother watched her stars below dim into the darkness, she called to them, reminding them of their inner light.

“Come, my children. You are my brilliance, my shining ones. You are the creations of my joy. Dance upon this world and share your light with one another. Remember who you are!

You are the children of the stars!”

And with her words, their memories came of dancing among the stars. And with this memory her children shined brightly, their light remembered once more. Still, to this day, they dance upon the earth sharing their light with one another and the world.

Another Collage Piece...

New Poem

I hate fighting... I hate how it feels, how it leaves me and the others around me, how it leaves the air around me... sharp and bitter like blood on the air. It always starts like a balloon, with a few breaths blowing it up, sometimes its slow and slowly expands, and sometimes it's just like a sudden gusty expansion and then... POP... you're left with the pieces.

So when I'm overwhelmed by the anger of deeds and words, I use the very objects of my anger and write. They're not always spectacular, but the poem itself isn't the point, it's the bonus.


Fight Mantra, Fight Fair
aka In... and out...

Take a breath... in... and out...
Take a time... in... and out...
Be at this moment, at this time... not another... no before...
only here... present... now...
Just let calm... in... and out...
Just let the tears... in... and out...
Let the calm and the tears wash over... let the pain and the anger go softly...
down... like... rain...
Feel no anger... in... or out...
Feel no regret... in... or out...
We all live life at moments when hate overcomes reason, we all feel right or wronged when
there is... no... blame
Feel passion... in... and out...
Feel compassion... in... and out...
I will not forgive myself or others, but I will forgo the past mistakes
of myself and others and be... right... now...
I will be... right... now...
Here... right... now...
Don't let your fool heart forget... in... and out...
Don't let the fool words... in... and out...
Remember who you are... who you have been and who you will be...
you are more than words, more than this moment...
You... are... all...
In... and out...

A Glass Half Full

Sometimes it's not whether the glass is looked at as half full or half empty. Sometimes it's what's in the glass that counts.

Sometimes half full doesn't mean all is well. Sometimes a glass can be half full, but what it's filled with leaves a bitter taste upon the tongue or what was left in the glass should have been drunk or drained long ago.

I've always considered myself a closeted optimist, but now I think it's the pessimist in me that put me there. I have this problem with my memories. They're disjointed and slanted towards keeping me in the closet. I think I've forgotten so many good things but have remembered so many bad that I'm a glass half full, but with the wrong drink.

My selective memories have left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Fall Day...

Grass in the Storm
photo: Sherry Lore

I went driving between appointments the other day and was lucky to have my camera with me. I'd been craving a latte and a gaze at the fall colors, but the weather hadn't been very conducive to autumn gazing with temperatures in the upper 80's and 90's and then rain. But even with the horizon threatening darkness once again, the topsy-turvy weather system with rolling clouds and bright sun breaking through lent drama and a strange beauty to the awe inspiring colors.
The winds were beautiful with the gray churning and the grasses swaying. It was an odd contrast between the quiet of the car ride versus the movement of the world around. It was as if the grass became an ocean, dancing with the storm, a tango with the wind.

Contrasts

I don't have a favorite color, or a favorite time of year. Instead, I have a favorite quality.
Twilight time, where the light and dark contrast, this is my favorite color or time. When the tones of color become richer, the world seems more magical and the light of night and day mixing seems to coalesce into beauty.

Poem: at the end of words...

at the end of words

I will never be that clever smile upon people’s lips

Or that realizing moment where they blink back tears

I am only that whispered sigh or wistful shrug that is found

at the end of words.

And like the grass, it is not my green that is missed in winter,

but the other colors I surround

Only when I grow too tall and proud am I noticed

and then cut to fit, with their intentions

I’ve been that bird with earthly wings who flew to close to the sun

feathers tattered, now raw and molten,

your gravity reminded me of my “proper” place

A corporeal impact upon my metaphor

But know that even with a single breath or glint of heaven’s light

I will find myself in currents, carried

by that possibility of becoming so much more

than at the end of words

A passion of mine...

Sacrifice
Collage by Sherry Lore

I have a life crisis, and have been having it since, oh, sometime in my early teens (way too long ago for my liking). I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up. According to many, to achieve one's true potential, one must find their passion. What I need to do is find my passion.

So, my sister was gifted with the hands of an artist. My brother, I swear, was born with with a socket wrench in his hands. I was given... well... I'm not sure. I was given the ability to know what's striking and maybe construct/deconstruct things into something different and maybe even better. I guess I was given a bit of both of their gifts, but not mastery of either. As such, poetry (the constructing of words) and collage (the deconstructing and reconstructing of images) as well as photography (the capturing of beauty, not really creating it) are my loves. But, since I'm not really a master of any, but a bit of all, can I truely find my passion, and a career, out of any of these? I suppose leading a tragic, unrequited life is a great start.

A poem shared...

The Taste

I tasted you the moment we met

Our eyes meeting… the tranquil waters of the ocean

our hands touching… strong and worn like the Earth herself

our lips forming words and smiles… a private dance shared between us

And then we parted, nothing left but the sweetness to savor

You knew nothing, it was my own private taste, my own private moment

I was cute, and shy… always “cute” and “shy”

You were proud and beautiful… like a mountain that needs nothing more than to be, to display its glory.

What hope had I that that single taste would become a feast

But I would taste you again, your essence a vivid memory on my tongue

And so we did meet again and again, mingling and parting

Eyes, hands, lips… all practicing for some other destined occasion

And you, becoming a craving, the desired main course for a starving woman

After a time, I had lost hope of quenching my thirst of you

as your flavor seemed to get lost on my tongue,

nothing more than a vague memory… an aftertaste

I began resigning myself to a life of fast food and leftovers

Oh, I had tasted… dined… on others

But none could compare to your flavor, water to honeyed mead

or perhaps it was your flavor mingled with my own

that created some epicurean delight that my senses could not let go of

And just as I had reconciled my life to TV dinners and mac and cheese… there you are

Eyes, hands, lips, coming to mingle and dance once more

Letting me taste you again, and again

Floating on my tongue like sweet ambrosia

Our meeting, glances and gazes…

Our touching, hands, shoulders, backs, thighs…

Our dance, the words and smiles,

Go late into the night

And you remain, the taste becoming an appetizer… a prelude of the dinner yet to come

Then a single promise… dance… kiss

And as if we had practiced enough,

I tasted you, and drank you whole.

Looking through the windows...

Yesterday I played a game on the way back from a wedding that I hadn't played since childhood. When I was young I used to play this game with my grandmother on long trips called "the alphabet game". We'd pass the hours of driving looking for words that began with letters of the alphabet in order from A to Z. Often times we'd find them on passing billboards and businesses or even occasionally, even cars. I found it made the trip more fun and made the time seem to pass by quickly, even to a six year old.

It's amazing the signs you never noticed or places you never see till you search, that were right before you all the time.

Music for the Senses

Here's a list of music that can change my whole world view within a few notes...

"Come Away With Me" Norah Jones Come Away With Me
"Fade Into You" Mazzy Star So Tonight That I Might See
"The Blower's Daughter" Damien Rice O
"Volcano" Damien Rice O
"#1 Crush" Garbage 2.1 [Thunderball]
"Violet: Hole Live through this
"Fear" Sarah McLachlan Mirrorball
"We'll Always Sing" Celia Red Alabaster & Blue
"Somewhere Over the Rainbow" Israel Kamakawiwo'ole Alone in IZ World
"Uninvited" Alanis Morissette City Of Angels
"Wings Of Steel" Collide "Chasing The Ghost"
"Roads" Portishead Tank Girl
"In the Shadow of Life" Niyaz Niyaz
"Silence" Delerium & Sarah McLachlan Silence [Australia CD]
"Colorblind" Natalie Walker Urban Angel
"Underwater" Delerium (Featuring Rani Kamal) Poem
"Here with Me" Dido No Angel
"Bring Me To Life" Evanescence Fallen
"Let Go" Frou Frou Details
"Milk [The Wicked Mix]" Garbage Milk [US #1]
"Drown Soda" Hole Ask for It
"Ancient Lullaby" Ikarus
"Just One Thing, Feat. Yanka Rupkina" Incus Burning Thread
"Dead Wood: Incus Burning Thread
"Hurt" Johnny Cash American IV - The Man Comes Around
"Teardrop" Massive Attack Mezzanine
"Into Dust" Mazzy Star So Tonight That I Might See
"What Your Soul Sings" Massive Attack 100th Window
"Extreme Ways" Moby 18
"Homeward Angel" Moby Hotel (Bonus Track)
"Quicksand (Thievery Corporation Remix)" Natalie Walker Quicksand - EP
"Unwritten" Natasha Bedingfield Unwritten
"Feelin' Love" Paula Cole City Of Angels
"Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums" A Perfect Circle Thirteenth Step
"Lullaby" A Perfect Circle Thirteenth Step
"Only You" Portishead Portishead
"Sour Times" Portishead Dummy
"Hell is Around the Corner" Portishead Remix by Tricky
"We Might Fall" Ryan Star Songs from the Eye of an Elephant
"In the Waiting Line" Zero 7 Simple Things
"A Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall" Bob Dylan The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan (Remastered)
"What Do I Have to Do?" Stabbing Westward Wither Blister Burn + Peel
"Save Yourself" Stabbing Westward Darkest Days
"Theme from Harry's Game" Clannad Clannad: Greatest Hits
"Aboriginal Lullaby" Basque Radiate
"Mother Mother" Tracy Bonham The Burdens of Being Upright
"Crucify" Tori Amos Little Earthquakes
"Silent All These Years" Tori Amos Little Earthquakes

These are just a few ... More to come

Hidden Beauty

I have this thing for sensual beauty... I'm not talking about erotic images... okay, sometimes their erotic... but really I'm talking about beauty that fills the senses. Images whose colors or lines evoke and haunt you, scents that bring back some vivid memory, tastes that make you water even after their gone, textures that go deeper than the skin, sounds that seem to shift the atmosphere of the whole room and echo through your soul. Sometimes these forms overwhelm the senses leaving them raw and exposed, sometimes they change them forever.

These feelings are what I try to find. It started as a way to block out the past, bad family, bad memories, bad histories. Later it became a way to remember it. There is beauty hidden in the darkness. Pinpricks of light that shine through like stars. Otherwise, how would I know it was dark, if that was all I'd ever seen.

I'm Still Learning

It's all still new... the time, the place, the page, the feel. I guess I'll see how well I do. How well my words and eye translate into digital bits, ones and zeros. I'll try my hand, or my keyboard, and see if this medium works. Share my insights, inspirations, and awe at the world around me.

Life's scenery moves so fast that I'm sometimes left behind, life blurred. Like the merri-go-round that spins too fast to jump on, I try to keep up but am still learning.