early 15c., pety coote, lit. “a small coat,” from petty and coat (n.).
Originally a padded coat worn by men under armor,
applied mid-15c. to a garment worn by women and young children.
petticoat
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Author Archives: nancy marie davis
old zinnia
still transferring photos onto flicker
a little at a time.
this one is from october 2008.
“old zinnia”
i would like to plant all flowers and
no vegetables in the garden this spring.
yes, it’s only january, and i am already
thinking of planting flower seeds.
*
signed-up
i just signed-up for a one day workshop
in encaustic painting. should be interesting.
saturday the 15th of january.
~
poets writing poetry
morning light
filtering through
rough
cockeyed
slats
rough
cockeyed
slats
i guess at what was
knowing i fall short of reality
anothers dream, labor of love
knowing i fall short of reality
anothers dream, labor of love
voices hammering memory
splinters
nails
into strong shelter
splinters
nails
into strong shelter
After all these years
Rough and splintered, empty and useless
Is this all there is of me?
Rough and splintered, empty and useless
Is this all there is of me?
the devastation of time
and splendor of the past
reveals an opportunity today
and splendor of the past
reveals an opportunity today
against my cheek
batik
and quantum
glassy veil
of wonder
batik
and quantum
glassy veil
of wonder
shrunken, dry, broken beauty
the warmth of living
held in the
pores of her
wooden walls
the warmth of living
held in the
pores of her
wooden walls
so wide the slant
of light still
reflecting and
illuminating
urging me
to cast my eyes
up beyond
the surface
of my worn
decaying shell
I rest in shadows
uninviting
waiting
someone see me
venture in
unbury my treasures
I am yet standing
still
of light still
reflecting and
illuminating
urging me
to cast my eyes
up beyond
the surface
of my worn
decaying shell
I rest in shadows
uninviting
waiting
someone see me
venture in
unbury my treasures
I am yet standing
still
My hand reaches out
And touches a smooth forehead
Of someone unseen
And touches a smooth forehead
Of someone unseen
Standing in shadows between broken patterns of light
My feet disturb ancient dust, sending it swirling
Through the stilted sunbeams shimmering through broken slats,
twirling through my memory the summers on this farm
And forming within the air long forgotten faded faces,
That when I reach dissolve again in dust and past.
My feet disturb ancient dust, sending it swirling
Through the stilted sunbeams shimmering through broken slats,
twirling through my memory the summers on this farm
And forming within the air long forgotten faded faces,
That when I reach dissolve again in dust and past.
Dark and deep
Memories sleep
Times long ago
Memories sleep
Times long ago
Frosty mornings
Cattle breath clouds
Grandpa’s mud caked boots
Frosting of ice on an old tin roof
Cattle breath clouds
Grandpa’s mud caked boots
Frosting of ice on an old tin roof
Hauling up hay bales to store for the Winter
Sweet smells of Fall harvest
Muscles aching, mind content
Sweet smells of Fall harvest
Muscles aching, mind content
Bustle of city life now
Missing the farm
Memories don’t rust nor dry rot
Missing the farm
Memories don’t rust nor dry rot
Lumber and slumber
Time has it’s way
Hit the hay
Time has it’s way
Hit the hay
weathered, broken
leaning
on
another’s arms
hoping
for
more time
leaning
on
another’s arms
hoping
for
more time
There was a barn
raising, once;
horses and cows
snorted and
jostled, once;
Hay was baled and
lifted, once;
I lay on the floor
to fix the oil
leak on the
John Deere, once;
the we regret to
inform you
telegram came to
me there, once;
I lay dying while
they stored my
coffin there, once.
raising, once;
horses and cows
snorted and
jostled, once;
Hay was baled and
lifted, once;
I lay on the floor
to fix the oil
leak on the
John Deere, once;
the we regret to
inform you
telegram came to
me there, once;
I lay dying while
they stored my
coffin there, once.
Slat-filter is what I need
to let through only the pure
light, the oldness and pain strained
away by sieve of wood
still standing
to let through only the pure
light, the oldness and pain strained
away by sieve of wood
still standing
beams of light revealing
pieces of the past,
days when all was prosperous
and we filled the air with laughter.
pieces of the past,
days when all was prosperous
and we filled the air with laughter.
Slanted,
Leaning,
Waiting and weathered,
this beaten brown
chicken wired life
This Broken down
Body of
boards
Planks, subject to
The elements’
decay.
But
beautiful
rest.
Leaning,
Waiting and weathered,
this beaten brown
chicken wired life
This Broken down
Body of
boards
Planks, subject to
The elements’
decay.
But
beautiful
rest.
Yet-
sun-bleached
beauty
tells story
of
my heart
sated with
life
holding in
memories
laughing in
the wind
hold up
this old skirt
one last
time
and twirl
in grasses
swaying at
my hem
i am
ready
to die
now.
sun-bleached
beauty
tells story
of
my heart
sated with
life
holding in
memories
laughing in
the wind
hold up
this old skirt
one last
time
and twirl
in grasses
swaying at
my hem
i am
ready
to die
now.
touches
lives unseen
sheltering
still
shedding skin
tunneling
scuffling
fluffing feathers
turning
to sun
and moon
murmuring
softly
burrowing
beneath
each other
and earth,
crumbled leaves,
scattered remains,
remnants
transfigured
another life
sheltering
still
woven together
grass
feather
paper
thread
and fur
tucked
between
mud clinging
heart singing
beneath eaves
helplessly
open mouths
and eyes
not yet
seeing
wait
lives unseen
sheltering
still
shedding skin
tunneling
scuffling
fluffing feathers
turning
to sun
and moon
murmuring
softly
burrowing
beneath
each other
and earth,
crumbled leaves,
scattered remains,
remnants
transfigured
another life
sheltering
still
woven together
grass
feather
paper
thread
and fur
tucked
between
mud clinging
heart singing
beneath eaves
helplessly
open mouths
and eyes
not yet
seeing
wait
inline
lean
slope
skew
to the pitch of a truth I tell.
lean
slope
skew
to the pitch of a truth I tell.
I once stood strong
against the wind
I did not quake
nor did I bend
against the wind
I did not quake
nor did I bend
And now the end
is drawing near
I face it now
seeing no fear.
is drawing near
I face it now
seeing no fear.
Dust in the air and under
my boots must contain the life
that passed through their stock.
This space plows my faith
and memory into neat rows
waiting for someone to sow.
my boots must contain the life
that passed through their stock.
This space plows my faith
and memory into neat rows
waiting for someone to sow.
slanted reality
splayed
tilted inward
against the eyes that see
mentally
graying aspects
wrestle the air between
to gasp
grasp the senses
now!
oh, the power of wind
once settled in
will scatter
this debris
splayed
tilted inward
against the eyes that see
mentally
graying aspects
wrestle the air between
to gasp
grasp the senses
now!
oh, the power of wind
once settled in
will scatter
this debris
poets:
Jim Schmotzer, Kelly Langner Sauer, Erin, Val, Lorrie, Kathleen Overby, Maureen, Russell Holloway, Nitewrit, Krist Fornshell, Susan, Glynn, Monica, Linda, Bradley, Laura, Melo, A. Jay Adler, Fishing Guy, Marcus Goodyear and nAncY.
Jim Schmotzer, Kelly Langner Sauer, Erin, Val, Lorrie, Kathleen Overby, Maureen, Russell Holloway, Nitewrit, Krist Fornshell, Susan, Glynn, Monica, Linda, Bradley, Laura, Melo, A. Jay Adler, Fishing Guy, Marcus Goodyear and nAncY.
this is a repost of a poem, that was started with the intention
to have comment poems added to it. comment poems, being
poetry left in the comment section. my lines were the first
five, and all the rest are from the comment contributions of the
other poets.
this poem was originally posted in January 2010, at a blog that i have,
but have not used in a long time, called just say the word.
you can go here to see the actual comments.
~
i am using this for my contribution for
one shot wednesday which is
being held at the one stop poetry blog.
i hope you enjoy it.
vines body dirt
soap dish of jute and old grape vines.
i made it yesterday.
it won’t last forever…
and will turn back into the lovely dirt…
just like our bodies.
~
EveningFlight
at the end of a day
what can i
say to make it right
abandon
leave
behind
all the
hard looks of reason
to be transported
weightless
by an
enraptured
heart
~
Sunday at the Portland Art Museum
i wanted to see the lee kelly exhibit, so peter and i went to have a look.
 |
| lee kelly in his barn studio |
lee kelly is a sculpture artist as well as a painter.
born in mccall, idaho, he now lives on a farm in oregon city, oregon.
more…here
he has done much traveling, as well as mountaineering in some of the
places he has traveled to.
more…here
and an opb video of lee…here
 |
| the vogel collection |
we also viewed the dorothy and herbert vogel collection: fifty works
for fifty states. meaning fifty works to each state.
it was the last day for seeing this.
it was the last day for seeing this.
more… at the vogel 50×50 web site…here
 |
| northwest regional collection |
and we went up to the fourth floor to view the a regional collection,
the schnitzer center for northwest art. we saw contemporary art by
emerging and established northwest artists.
~
What’s The Story ?
i don’t know if anyone has noticed this before.
but..
in every single painting
i have seen
of adam and eve…
they are sporting
bellybuttons.
what’s the story with that ?
~
one would think
with all the time travel shows written, one would think that someone would write
about going back and telling eve not to listen to that lying snake.
The Short List
Old & New
it’s the end of the year…
and
a lot of people are looking back.
an intention of reflection.
i have been thinking.
instead of
the resolutions
made from looking back
at what i think
that i need to do better,
a plain renewal
of commitment to faith in the Lord.
more of a giving and laying-it-all-down time.
not looking back
not making plans
not thinking of what i want
not a list of what i should do
just
bowing down in a prayer of renewal
and
Love
~
Radical~
the book
i am almost finished with this book. i have to say that, well, i just
don’t know what to think about it. i am a bit confused and my heart
feels sadness. but, perhaps, for now, that is a good thing.
i welcome your comments.
~
One Day~
what is
a day
split
into
life and
death
loss
asking
why
does not believe
how can a good God
take her son
and let so much pain
happen in the world
anger
and pain
have their way
with her
i visit
a careful
dance
to
understand
listen
and hope
to visit
to dance
again
~
shared at one shot wednesday
along with the words of other wonderful folks.
Under the Banyan Tree
Banyan Tree Park
Maui, Hawaii
December 2010
This Banyan Tree was first planted in April, 1873,
and marked the 50th Anniversary of Christian missionary work in Lahaina.
The tree was imported from India and was only 8 feet tall.
It now stands over 60 feet high and has 12 major trunks in addition to a huge core.
It stretches over a 200 foot area and shades 2/3 of an acre.
~
i felt the bark
sat in the coolness
listened to people speaking
saw others
reading the news paper
riding bikes
eating ice cream
all under branches
stretched far and wide
all in the same house of shade
~
Thinking and Abiding
I know that things only happen once, in a certain way,
and never happens just that way, again.
I know that this moment, this day, will never come again.
Yet, i have realized that it’s not so much having my mind
in the “present” that matters, as much as having my mind
in the “pleasant.”
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!
That is the verse many people pay attention to.
However, it’s the following ones that i want you to read.
Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your
requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,
will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble,
whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever
is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—
think about such things.
Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me,
or seen in me—put it into practice.
And the God of peace will be with you.
It is just that, if i my mind is working well, when i am in a pleasant
place, i seem to take-in the present and where i am,
and not go, so much, to other places or times with my mind.
yet, if i do not like where i am, in the present, i end up trying to
avoid it with my mind, by being in another place or time in thought,
or maybe even shutting-down my thoughts or feelings,
which can be dangerous when done too much.
So, i believe it’s actually more healthy to abide in the Love of
God, and humble our self before Him, waiting on the Lord and
being grateful for what we have been given. And thinking those
“trusting in God” kinds of thoughts that have a way of sometimes
putting one in that pleasant place, acceptance, and maybe even
bringing a small grin and a sigh.
Then one is more apt to be doing more positive and creative
things, in the Spirit. Things that work more to the good and to
reveal the Glory of God.
~
verse from Philippians 4.
A LITTLE SOMETHIN' 