Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Under Cover

Self in Kitchen, 1990, pastel and pencil on Rives BFK, 22" x 30," private collection.I was approached recently by a poet who is having her first book of poems published, and has asked to use my drawing Self in Kitchen for her book cover. I won't reveal the poet or the book title just yet, but just let me say that this a powerful and beautiful collection of poetry, having to do primarily with the complex mother/daughter relationship. I am excited and honored that my self portrait will be gracing the cover of this new book, which will be available in 2012.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Cesi's Gramma


Cesi with Mom's Last Few Things, 2011
digital collage

This poignant word portrait of my mother, written several years ago by my niece, the sweet and talented Cesi Marseglia, was recited by The Reverand Jan Vickery Knost at my mom's funeral service. I wish I had a recording of Jan's strong and beautiful voice reading this - it was sure powerful. Not a dry eye in the house...

Gramma

When I think of Edna Simmons;

Old memories flood my mind, a steep, dark flight of stairs,

onion skins, a little girl skipping in pretty pink shoes,

cats, cats everywhere, cats upon cats, mobiles of color, pottery,

nude portraits, misty beach glass and mismatched buttons,

bright red crab apples, dappled in sunlight, the thick, sturdy branches

of an old beech tree, the best cookies you ever tasted, tiny

hand-knit sweaters, a beautiful dead butterfly

kept in a glass jar, frilly, lively petticoats from her dancing days, porcelain dolls

with eyes that make a clicking noise when they open and shut,

just a few strands of hair left clinging to their bald heads,

ongoing puzzles that would never seem to end, an old,

decorative rolling pin, stale Cheerios,

paper dolls with old fashioned clothing, a shower where the

hot water runs out very fast, going upstairs and visiting the past,

a tiny crib that I used to sleep in, although I was too big, the old

book of farm animals and all the sounds they made, a cute little plastic

elephant in

an Animal Crackers tin, piles of cardboard boxes,

with nothing to put in.
I love you Gramma.