Poem: What is aka Schema

Pajama Party on the Wall

The little painting on the upper right, Pajama Party I "unicorned"  and kitched up especially for the Unicorn show at Motlen Java. It's oil on canvas board.  For more on this one either scroll down or http://artsattic.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-uncertain-path-of-particular.html

Oh the weeds

Life is full of weeds, things that pop up in every conceivable spot taking the place of what you meant to be there...

Sometimes the weeds are charming, flowered. Sometimes thorny or just quick and stubborn. Opportunists all.

We try to garden as best we can in this life - which is the only one we're fairly sure we've got.

The photo is an empty planter left in the garden last fall. It has a drain hole in the bottom and the weeds just grew up through it.

How to ruin an unfinished painting

This is the tale of how an unfinished painting with possibilities turned in to a waste of paint, kitsch and silly. Instead of throwing in the trash I put it on display. Silly me.  It's an oil painting of mine (currently named pajama party) that started out as a village in the mountains with a clock tower:

I just felt it need something. So when there was a call for paintings after Chagal I added some floating people. See below, for the three floaters.

Then I thought the clock tower had to go, then a friend insisted  I needed to take out the bottom figure - and I thought she was right... so I did but then
I had a dilemma - it really needed something else but I had no idea what.   And it sat like this for a long time.  Then the wonderful eccentrics and the local coffee shop put out a call for unicorn paintings for a summer show. One night after I had gone to bed - I sat bolt upright, went to the painting and put in the unicorn in white. Added the colors and the pajamas the next day.  I don't know. It's tacky. But somehow it works.  At least that is what I think now.....  When it comes home from the unicorn show - who knows what might happen to it... perhaps the circular file.....
AND:
Here it is on the wall at the unicorn show:

Poem for April 10 - Teamwork

TEAMWORK

CAST:
1 Duck. Drake. Aggressive Moscovy.
Too stringy and tough for stew.
1 Hunting Hound. Old and Friendly.
Companion. Sent Sniffer. Retriever.

PLOT:
Oscar, the Duck patrols the perimeter.
Attacks intruders relentlessly. Bites their ankles.
Beats them back with his flapping wings.

Nellie the Dog watches.
Bays or barks out the alarm
to alert Grandpa.

Later they rest, still on lookout
in the warm afternoon sun.
Near, but not too near.


NOtE: the photo is a family picture of the actual Oscar and Nellie who belonged to my Grandfather Walker. My mother recalls being afraid to get out of the car and having to run for the house when Oscar was on patrol. Not sure if this is a poem or just sort of flash nonfiction.... Not sure I care which either....

Poem for April 4 - Slightly Irregular Apocalypse Sale!

SLIGHTLY IRREGULAR APOCALYPSE SALE

Six bucks a bag
of our unwieldy woes
No looking back, no excuses
- everything goes!

   Economic instability,
   colliders building to infinity.
   Famine, flood or fire,
   entropic flat tires.
   Wormholes, black holes,
   comet-born plague,
   missiles from the Kremlin,
   precise justice from the Hague?
   Lab DNA morphing,
   death by excess endorphins
   Killer bees, disappearing bees, alien pods,
   anti-matter implosions, a zombie Steve Jobs.
   String theory unraveling, oil for free
   a bang or a whimper - say will it be
   by fire or ice, a snarl or a moan?
Predictions are futile so leave me alone....

                                       -- MM Walker
------------------------------------------
The prompt was to use an Ian Banks title - http://www.napowrimo.net/2013/04/day-four/

Poem for April 3 - SHARED SPACES

MM and  TieDown the helicopter test dog share a bit of lawn.

NaPoWriMo #3  (am a day late on this one) and I am ignoring the prompt.... In the picture I share a bit of lawn with TieDown. He was named after a helicopter test called a "tie-down." This pup showed up during such a test where my Father worked.  He came home with Dad and lived all his years with us. He has nothing to do with this poem really, though the picture of this shared spot inspired it.

SHARED SPACES:
Like wine, friendships age
      could be perfection or vinegar.
Sometimes what is not done wins a friend:
     An absence of too loud chat and shrill barks
     A lack of yanking this or that when in proximity,
     A lack of poking pointing fingers here or there.
The end of a friend can be that too:
     what is not done, what is not said
     what never comes up, what is omitted
     the little lawn of the heart overrun with weeds.