Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

For Seaside Heights

The Heights was brought to its knees
The Jet crashed into the sea
No flumes could contain the tides
The land has drowned
Fire burns on water
Sand buries the dead

wander splintered boards
searching for their lost homes
Carousel horses
ripped loose from their moorings
stampede down the streets
wild and spooked
Like a forgotten ferris wheel
minds whirl out memories
spinning round and round 
with nowhere to go.

Hope everyone is faring OK after Sandy. We're fine here but my mother-in-law had to evacuate her home in Lavallette, NJ and has no idea if it's still standing or not. Lavallette is right down the road from Seaside Heights, which, you may have seen on the news, is completely devastated. Our family has been going to the boardwalk there for years, so it's been very eerie and sad.
Seaside Height Amusement park is in ruins after Hurricane Sandy made landfall, Seaside Heights, New Jersey, Oct. 30, 2012.
Courtesy Tim Husar and Jan Humphreys
Jet Star roller coaster hanging into the Atlantic Ocean in NJ (via NBC4)

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Autumn Embrace

© Teresa Perin
Watching the October sunsets
Waltzing under autumn sky
You and I
Green leaves rust, turn to dust
Let the summer die
Summer's new, searing yellow
Autumn's rich, mellow.

Disregarding rain and puddles
We stay warm despite the cold
Let's grow old
Storms will blow, come and go
As our story's told
We'll keep dancing, never rend
As we dip and bend.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

The Shadow

The more you keep it down the more it grows
It thrives in places where there is no light
The more you try to hide the more it knows
It taunts you when you lie awake at night

You never know when it may want to play
A game of cat and mouse inside your head
And if you try to make it go away
The longer it will stay with you instead

It visits you in dreams so dark and deep
In wishes and in secrets long rejected
The beast will keep on eating you alive
Until you hold it, make it feel protected

For once you see the shadow face to face
You see that it's yourself you must embrace.

The Shadow - Steven.Kenny

Willow Manor Ball!

It's that time of year again! The Willow Manor Ball! I was a tad worried I wouldn't make it due to Frankenstorm heading our way on the East coast, but after stocking up on water, dog food, and TP, I finally was able to head out the door! I'm not going to allow a little National Disaster to dampen my party spirit! 

After much deliberation, I decided that since all men are dogs, I may as well take my poodle as my date! Let me introduce Sir Soni B. He's an older gentleman and quite a lovely date. He looks dashing in a tux and is already comfortable in tails! 

My gown this year is vintage Dior. I'm so pleased that the green sequins offset the absinthe that Tess is serving this year. What a lucky coincidence! 

I plan to dance the night away, enjoy a beautiful brunch, and then return home to see what havoc Mother Nature has wrought. Adieu!

"Junon" dress, fall/winter 1949–50 Christian Dior (French, 1905–1957); Christian Dior Haute Couture (French, founded 1947) Pale-blue silk net embroidered with iridescent blue, green, and rust sequins
What a gentleman!
 Thanks again to Tess at Life at Willow Manor for hosting this exquisite event!

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Migraine Art

Been really struggling with daily migraines for the past week or so, and the usual preventives and rescue meds aren't doing the trick so much. Very frustrating. Difficult to focus on reading or computer related activities with demons twisting your optic nerves. 

Anyway, I did manage to put together this piece expressing my mood of late. Thanks to Micael C. for his idea of using print pages for the background, which I blatantly stole from a favorite painting of his that's hanging in my art room.

Sunday, October 21, 2012


image source

Even a killer needs rest

Hunting down prey is tiring

Tearing flesh from bone, wearying

The grip tightening around the neck as

the pulse quickens, rising

in a frenzied crescendo

to its peak,



It’s an act of love

And I,

spent and sated,