My Card Store

Well, the first couple cards have finished wending their way through the submission process, so here's the link for future reference. Phoenix-KaRenee Cards Thanksgiving, Christmas.... I'll be working my way through creating cards for each of the holidays a month or two ahead, so we'll see how this goes.

Frozen Time

I touched time today.
A wisp of gossamer wing
grazed my fingertips
and as I grasped
the single strand,
a chill spread.

Vanished,
the warmth
and motion
...
and I was alone
without even the treasure
of a memory.

That wisp of flame,
meant to live
in constant sweep,
touching past
and future
with grace and life,

FROZEN

in a single
instant
of selfish claim
on that which cannot
be
confined.

Let
Go

This Sensation

Someone stuffed my head  
with cotton  
and 
dangled a lure 
down my throat. 

I'm not sure if they thought 
they'd catch something  
or  
were simply trying 
to rest, 

but it's playing  
havoc  
with my senses.

Bat Wings, Cat , Tree, Candle...

What do these have in common?

Well, look below to find out.


Candle-Tree by ~phoenix-karenee on deviantART

I've been painting recently. The above candle is now the front of a sympathy card at Greeting Card Universe. They double-check every card, so it's taking some time, but eventually I'll have a store full of cards containing my poetry or, at least, sentiments from under my pen. It's an exciting endeavor.

The painting below, was a ... well, I can't explain it. This just occurred to me, so I drew it.


Bat-Cat by ~phoenix-karenee on deviantART

Warming Cup

Upon the table,
empty,
ceramic glaze
reflects the light
streaming through leaves
in rippling waves
reminiscent of steam
in their undulation,
touched by an exterior breeze.

Inside, I'm warm;
reminded of the times
this cup has held
flavor,
warmth,
fluid
pouring down my throat
between words,
phrases,
comfortable sentences
shared with you.

I feel the history,
carrying
a simple delight
of the ages,
firelight,
rough tables,
elaborate ceremonies,
conferring generals,
kings,
playing children,
lovers,
friends,
old and young....

Even now
modern hearts
wrap fingers in gentle curve,
to bask in the radiating
heat;
looking toward
change
and future,
touching tongue
to love,
philosophy,
hope,
savoring the moment.

We are joined
to them all,
you and I,
stepping into the flow
by pouring
steaming liquid
and resting
for a time,
companions to the world.

By Any Other Name

Here's a plant that we could call a rose,
Refuting what all the world knows.
Advertisement, they say,
Creates romance today.
Yet the cabbage scent still hits the nose.

Word of the Day - Loquacious

Loquacious

Today, since my mind seems so spacious,
It seems good to vent words, loquacious,
But whatever the matter
'Twill only be natter
Since meaning still somehow evades us.

Typo Gremlins - Art & Poem

The typo gremlins live inside

computer keyboards,

where they hide

and wait to play their mischief on

restless, distracted, up-till-dawn

typists who just won't perceive

the gremlins' presence,

till they leave.

Exchanged letters, puns absurd,

homonyms and garbled words,

the gremlins love to take away

signs of intelligence and display

distracted, misplaced or confused

typos by which they're amused.

Incredible Paintings of the Phoenix

These are only a few of the incredible phoenix paintings I admire. Do visit the artists and see their other works. As you can see, they're good at what they do.

Look at the incredible lines and colors on the phoenix below. Isn't it gorgeous?


Phoenix by =PearlEden on deviantART

A branching phoenix. I love the structure of trees, and this phoenix carries those lines beautifully. Isn't it graceful?


PhOeNiX by =ZaaMaMuZ on deviantART

Look at the intense curves and spirals of this design! I love the contrast of the color against the black and white pattern.


Fire - Phoenix by ~BurntPheonix on deviantART


This is only the beginning, but I'll save the rest for other posts someday. Again, visit these artists if you like their work.

Watching Pain

Watching your pain is like wearing barbed wire
dressing up for a night on the town.
It isn't mine, but reminders are unending
as I watch, you cannot settle down.

Nothing exists that can make it feel better
all I can do is try to help ease you through.
Feels like nothing here can really matter
except your pain, and that's your due.

All I can say to you is that I'm sorry;
wish I could take a portion for my own.
If it was me, well I'd be just as broken,
probably more; I'd feel just as alone.

Here is my hand in service for this moment
I will return as often as you wish.
Here is my heart in prayer for you each second
as I realize your depth of brokenness.

---

I'm watching my husband as he suffers through the first few days after an orthoscopic surgery on his shoulder. He's on the maximum dose of the best painkillers available (to homes) and still in agony. This, combined with watching my friends go through many other sorts of pain, from death of loved ones to living with the consequences of their actions ... well, pain is on my mind today.

Illusion of Duet

Your heart and mine sing together
like tower bells
that chime with one another
across a chasm;

only
one
 
is a ghost,
a mere echo--
the tower
silent
and empty.

If I weren't
a bell,
I'd
cry.

Memory Box Moments #3

My worth exists inside your head,
shaped by memories long dead.
Captured in time and trapped by space,
no longer worthy of this place,
I linger on, since you forget,
it is your heart that chose regret.
Release me from the bonds of time
this broken relic does not shine
but only opens wounds long gone
and takes away the present song.

---

Well, no questions at the end of this poem. This sort of treasure is difficult to share. One more day of pre-written poems, though not a part of this series.

Memory Box Moments #2

You lifted me from paper bed,
dusted my form, distraught, and said,
"It's been so long! You look so worn!"
But I don't care; this is my form.
I'm meant to rot, to wear, to break,
it's what I am, it's what they make.
For you to think that I will not ...
Well, it's your choice to waste that thought.
In time, I know I'll fade away.
My use is past, but that's okay.
The treasure here is in your heart
and you can know it won't depart.

---

Have you owned a treasure like this? Share the memory if you wish.

Memory Box Moments #1

I have no heart to love you, dear,
no eyes to see when you're in tears,
no lips to speak words of relief,
no hands to hold and give you peace.
I claim my space, my shape, my form,
as was designed, this is the norm.
So, why, just now, do you embrace
my worn out history, in place
of living friend, with breath and thought
to share the love and strength you've sought?

---

This is the first of a set of poems (yes, already written) about things we hang on to and how they affect us. I'm cheating with the poem a day plan already, you see?

"However, since my husband is having surgery on Wednesday, and nearly every room in the house is currently in process of trading furniture, I'm not apologizing," says Karenee, as she prepares to post this poem two days from now.

---

What treasures of the past do you keep? Well, I won't ask for your story since this poem is about a memory substituted for present friendship, but feel free to share anyway.

Inspiration - from Light or Darkness? - Poem Feature

I cannot post the poem which prompted this angle of thought, nor the poet's responses in this continuing dialog, since I have not acquired permission, but I recommend you follow this link and read what she wrote so you understand the discussion which follows (and also to appreciate her unique and beautiful poem).

Inspiration (round 2)

I would say that inspiration is found in the contrast between light and darkness. It is the lack of light that is darkness, that compels us to ask, “Why?” But also, what seems “dark” to us is sometimes light hidden behind a veil of dimensions through which we cannot see, reminding me of those particles of light found permeating deep caverns in some study or other which I read in the past.

Without the light, I wouldn’t find darkness inspiring at all, but crushing. So, I carry light into places that have been dark so I can see those things I couldn’t see before. Light reveals the dark places.

What is not known is unlimited, thus the constant production of creative work, exploring what may or may not be. But, I also contend that the very act of placing thought to the shadow, pen to paper, paint to canvas, and so forth, is the act of bringing a light--so while the mystery is always greater than what we discover, we never quite manage to touch the expanse of the mystery, itself. This may be called the frustration of all artists, that we can't shape the mystery into something identifiable. It always continues just out of reach, and just as immense and inconceivable as before.

(I edited my responses a little, taking out thoughts distracting to the main point. Again, go read the poem. It's very good.)

So, what do you think? Is inspiration found in light or in darkness? I'd love to talk about it with you, since the subject interests me and new perspectives always help to broaden horizons.

My Library - Poem of the Day

Books are stacked up on the chair,
on the floor,

(They'd be in the air
If I could only find a way
to put them up and make them stay!)

on the shelf
and on the table;

(I'd stack them up on high-strung cable
except I think that they might fall....)

some on the bed,
stacked up the wall;
I've even put some over there,
you don't want to know just where.

(Yet still the search does plague my mind,
for storage space I've still to find.)

---

This poem came from the fact that I'm currently in process of moving my library from one room of the house to another. However, this was just the beginning. Once I began imagining living in a much smaller place, and thinking of how I've seen people store books, well ... you see the result. I certainly don't make a habit of storing books "over there" in a place you don't wish to know about. At least, I don't think I do?

Where do you store your books? Do you have too many? What do you do when you run out of shelf space?

Inconvenience for You ... and Branding Thoughts

I'm changing the URL of this blog. Karenee just realized this particular flight of fancy, "FlyingFirePhoenix" has absolutely nothing to do with our "business identity". And since we are trying to "brand ourselves" ... whatever that means.... Well, we're sticking with our official logo/artist-stamp of Phoenix-Karenee, since it's available.

(Edit:  Transfer now complete, in case you're new here.)

Building an identity as an artist and writer/poet comes with strange traps woven by our own creativity sometimes. "Especially when I just let the phoenix go off and do without thinking," says Karenee.

As an aside, do you think "branding" can mean just being yourself? Because that's my take on it. I mean, this is 1/2 of me, anyway. You won't be getting the boring, day to day, depressed side of me (Karenee). She has her own blog, where family and friends commiserate. But they don't show much interest in this artistic stuff. Add to this certain articles by reputable people who mention that a separate blog or site (to which people specifically interested in the art and writing may go) is a highly recommended  action and you have the basic reasoning for this blog.

I'm sorry you're being punished for being one of the first to visit. We won't move again, once this is done, and just in case you get lost, we'll keep this blog URL for a while with a post explaining where to find the real thing.

Better now than later. Right?

I hope.

Anyway, the decision is made. Execution will commence this evening.

Acceptance

Welcome to this place kept warm
where we agree to do no harm,
and present our heart and core
to share, to live, and always ... more
to understand, to really get
the meanings that were meant.
So if you come discourse with us
and you can feel the wind's cool gust
not turning from the sharp cool scent
of inner thoughts and feelings meant
to be shared with knowing friends
who choose to look through this warped lens.
And if with us you find a way
to share your core and source and say
what's really real, not what is not,
or start to laugh at contrast caught,
extreme examples, it's assured,
but minds like ours just seem absurd ...
welcome friend, stand by our side.
We are glad that you don't hide
but step out here and share this life
of wisp-cloud dreams and sharpened strife
against a rainbow colored sky
where, together, we might fly.

Poem of the Day?

Well, I've heard of people who do a painting a day.... This, then, could be an enjoyable way to toss a salad of words as practice. I might use the Word of the Day, now linked in the sidebar, as inspiration should nothing else come to mind.

It's hard to state just how writers relate
in pages online for their readers, sublime.
But it simply won't do to post pages few!
For a blog to be read you need content, it's said.
And thus I have started a new trend ... for me.
You may feel free
To beg for mercy.
Just be glad I didn't rhyme triskaidekaphobia.

Vision of Sunset in Fall

Is it a dream or a gift, this treasure now enrapturing my heart? And I don't have a camera ...

Radiance skims the tops of tall grasses, leaping to caress leaves, it passes over shadow. Lowering clouds, dark grey, turn flat faces from the sun, crowding the horizon in solid mass, foreshadowing the night. Sharp, the contrast of color and shadow battling among thinning bushes yonder, blustering at one another over sharply-drawn lines. Flashy farmhouses distract the light, calling it to play upon unblemished siding, while rough-boarded barns shelter beneath the trees in quiet contemplation, embraced by dying fields of glistening gold.

Ah, do you see the rose-colored rays throwing their perspective over the landscape? Great clouds, fat and full, turn aside from their alliance with evening, basking in the first touch of sunset, refreshing themselves in preparation for night. Above, the grey skies turn cold shoulder against this rebellion, while a crooked tree preens its bark, now rich and red in this new light, and mocks the sky for its failure to participate in the pleasure. This rosy glow, counter to common opinion, makes the shadows ever more stark; allows them to rule ever greater portions of the landscape. Yet here, still, there is triumph, for the new shade enhances every nuance of reflection, pulling attention away from the creeping darkness by sheer power of beauty.

Soon, soon, the trees will drop their many-colored veils, and wash their slender arms in chill breezes, anticipating white-jeweled crowns. But now, as the light fades, they exult together against the sky, defining and dividing the boundary between day and night.

A Phoenix-Style Snack - Artist Thursday

Because it's late and I'm tired, I'll let this image speak for itself ... mostly.


Coffee Moon by *Maylar on deviantART

Can you taste the moon?

I'm ... in shock.

My poem, Creative Resonance, has been featured in the writing section of the international artist community of Red Bubble!

I hoped to begin to learn to communicate within the world of art, and to place my work where it could be appreciated in a tactile way should anyone care to do so. I wanted recognition, but Karenee, with her clear perspective, was certain this would be a long time in coming. And so, her expectations have already been exceeded.

We are both dancing with excitement at having been chosen. It makes the fog around the top of the mountain clear slightly so we can glimpse the peak against the sky, giving us hope for touching it one day.

Creative Progress... or Something

I've completed two more paintings, one took mere days to finish, and the other only an hour. Let's see if you can connect them to their appropriate time label....

To find out why Ared Flame is attacking the Semi-Liquid Rabbit Creature, visit the image link to read the description. Or, go to Seventh Sanctum and see what random prompts you can come up with, since this image is for a contest there.

The tree is a development of a discussion with a friend earlier about what we look for in cards--this is not what he looks for, it's my idea of a good card--however, the sentiment is one I look for in relationships, and isn't the tree a fun way to illustrate the concept? I had fun with this while Karenee was waiting for laundry to finish drying late, late at night.

Now here is a question for you ...

When is the best time to do laundry?

Epic Battle Scene Completed!

I've been busy. This is the result.
Click the picture to go to the host site and see the larger version.

"O Lord, Save Thy People..."

1453

Title taken from the “Troparion to the Holy Cross,” a song favored in the Byzantine Empire.

Time freezes at the turning of the battle against the Ottomans, as General Guistiniani is struck in the breastplate by a crossbow bolt.

The Genoese will retreat with their critically wounded leader, leaving Constantine XI to fill the breach with his own guard. The battle will be over by full dawn, and the city ravaged by its attackers.

Laughter and Patience

What do computer game-inspired fiction, foreign novels, humor and patience bring to your mind? For me, it's the wonderful world of ½ Prince, a series of Chinese novels written by Yu Wo and since adapted into a manhua (which I also enjoy).

Currently, a group of dedicated and detail-oriented volunteers are translating the novels with the author's permission. This is where patience enters the scene. Yes, I feel just a little like those readers long ago, who used to wait by the gangplank for the latest European magazine containing the next chapter of the novel upon which their imagination had settled in fascinated focus. Only there's no gangplank, and I don't need to leave the comfort of my home, and it's not a magazine.

But the waiting part is there, and I'm finding it adds a certain delicious flavor to the reading. I don't think I've had to wait for the next part of any story for a very long time. It might actually be good for me!

In summary, go taste the story and see if it is to your liking. I find the sense of humor contained within the virtual pages suites my palate as if custom-designed. Perhaps it's the irony ... or a certain lack of normalcy could be to blame ... Alice in Interactive Media ...