You are enchanting.
You are rolling, green laughter,
caressed by a cloudy cobalt evening.
I listen for the wind, during the rain, and after.
For you, I am thankful each day.
 |
| Day 155 8x10 oils on canvas Art by: Valerie Dowdy @ www.valeriedowdy.com |
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
The 7th of May 2013
My Mountains in May
You are enchanting.
You are rolling, green laughter,
caressed by a cloudy cobalt evening.
I listen for the wind, during the rain, and after.
For you, I am thankful each day.
You are enchanting.
You are rolling, green laughter,
caressed by a cloudy cobalt evening.
I listen for the wind, during the rain, and after.
For you, I am thankful each day.
Monday, May 6, 2013
The 6th of May 2013
Photosynthesis
My mind follows the sun
from my small place, when day's begun.
Before the light, a prayer's said
to be grateful for what I'm fed.
The work grows, but my mind follows
the sun from East to West. The wind billows
my loose garments. My face-
to-the-sky, my heart-race,
runs and toes-spread-in-the-ground;
I take root,what home is found!
My mind follows the sun
from my small place, when day's begun.
Before the light, a prayer's said
to be grateful for what I'm fed.
The work grows, but my mind follows
the sun from East to West. The wind billows
my loose garments. My face-
to-the-sky, my heart-race,
runs and toes-spread-in-the-ground;
I take root,what home is found!
 |
| Day 216 8x10 oils art by: Valerie Dowdy @ www.valeriedowdy.com |
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
The 1st of May 2013
He's Sleeping in the Other Room
The sun, tide, wind, water,
Constantly rise and fall,
Be at rest,
now and,
always.
The sun, tide, wind, water,
Constantly rise and fall,
Be at rest,
now and,
always.
 |
| Day 318 Oil on Canvas Art by Valerie Dowdy @ www.valeriedowdy.com |
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
The 30th of April 2013
Human Limitation and the String Theory
What sound would I compose if I could sense electromagnetic waves?
Would I sing or would my thoughts evaporate? Or would you feel
ALL of me, in a semi-telepathic, more process-of-osmosis, one, real
ALL of me, in a semi-telepathic, more process-of-osmosis, one, real
combination of spiritual being, which braves
futuristic entwining of quantum physics and biblical revelation?
Would there be a need for words? Or tao-like transmission of a human gradation?
I am bound in being, blessed and curious--I will fall in death and rise in life, and be completely...
Reborn?
ALL and NOTHING.
The unknown cycle of biological physics. |
| Day 140 8x10 oils on canvas Art by: Valerie Dowdy @ www.valeriedowdy.com |
Sunday, April 28, 2013
The 28th of April 2013
On the Burning of the Underbrush
I have heard the learned voices explain the greater good,
but with ash on my soles as I walk through the wood,
I feel as skittish as the animals that leave chaotic tracks.
I feel as skittish as the animals that leave chaotic tracks.
Though, I’m thankful that there’s a soft rain to hide my tears,
as I walk I feel the pain, the lingering smoke attacks
the vicissitudes of my being, and I walk in fears.  |
| Day 253 8x10 oil on canvas art by: Valerie Dowdy @ www.valeriedowdy.com |
Thursday, April 18, 2013
The 18th day of April 2013
My Husband
His shoulders slope.
They embody the worn out mountains
Of Appalachia with quiet, eternal hope,
and the coal covered fountains,
or streams that trickle and grope
the ground, rocking with laughter or tears.
They embody the worn out mountains
Of Appalachia with quiet, eternal hope,
and the coal covered fountains,
or streams that trickle and grope
the ground, rocking with laughter or tears.
His hands rest in a fold.
They are the basket woven by someone’s Grandma Gert,
and the patchwork quilt she sewed,
Or the stitches that healed the hurt
they’re ready to pray for reasons brought by the years.
and the patchwork quilt she sewed,
Or the stitches that healed the hurt
they’re ready to pray for reasons brought by the years.
His eyes shine.
They are the bright sun in the blue sky, and the stars at night.
Beneath the rock, downward, he goes,
but his eyes are brighter than his head light--
a little lamp that leads him. He knows
the noises of the deep, black, below-ground fears.
They are the bright sun in the blue sky, and the stars at night.
Beneath the rock, downward, he goes,
but his eyes are brighter than his head light--
a little lamp that leads him. He knows
the noises of the deep, black, below-ground fears.
His muscle and bone, carry me to bed.
His skin and lips, make my cheeks turn red.
His body and soul are tangled with mine, until we’re dead.
 |
| Day 19 by Valerie Dowdy 8x10 oils $100 @ www.valeriedowdy.com |
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
The 17th of April 2013
April Afternoon
Earth awoke from a long icey slumber today.
The trees began to toss out pink and green confetti.
I listened for what God’s creatures had to say.
The sun warmed us and conversation made us ready
to move and to do
til one little dove cried coo-coo, coo, coo, coo.
 |
| Day 138 8x10 Watercolor Pencil @ www.valeriedowdy.com |
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