As a Lotus Flower

Knapweed Page 26

Hardheads

I was told I must

celebrate

in some kind of obvious way,

because I prefer to hide in the wonder

of my life,

to stay quiet and even rather

still,

To drink the nectar

of solitude

instead of more company

than is good for me,

Cuckoo Flower Page 18

Cuckoo Flower

like too much wine

that would make me unrecognizable

to myself.

 

My thirst is for

the clarity of my thoughts,

the true rhythm of my heart,

and the wakefulness of my soul.

Although, in a way, I do seek

drunkenness, by

Heartease

Heartease

overindulging in the softness

of my cats and their doggedness, too –

the same to be said about nature

as it intoxicates my life with meaning

and escape from meaning,

and the passions that make me teeter

on the edge of becoming unrecognizable

to everyone but myself.

 

 

“As a lotus flower is born in water, grows in water and rises out of water to stand above it unsoiled, so I, born in the world, raised in the world having overcome the world, live unsoiled by the world”
~ Buddha

 

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton (I know that this painting depicts water lilies not lotus flowers, but it was born of a very special birthday memory and, I believe, reflects the sentiments of my poem and the Buddha quote).

On my 65th birthday

I make a toast of

Blessings for

Peace and Love

to All

 

Snow White Cat

Copyright 2016 by DM Denton

PS As some may realize, this is a repost, but it continues to express how I feel on my birthday.

donatellasmallest©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

As a Lotus Flower

My previous post was a reflection on a birth day – Branwell Brontë’s.

So is this one – mine. From one year to the next, I change and remain the same … and so I repost this poem, these thoughts, anew.

 

Hardheads

I was told I must

celebrate

in some kind of obvious way,

because I prefer to hide in the wonder

of my life,

to stay quiet and even rather

still,

To drink the nectar

of solitude

instead of more company

than is good for me,

Cuckoo Flower Page 18

Cuckoo Flower

like too much wine

that would make me unrecognizable

to myself.

 

My thirst is for

the clarity of my thoughts,

the true rhythm of my heart,

and the wakefulness of my soul.

Although, in a way, I do seek

drunkenness, by

Heartease

Heartease

overindulging in the softness

of my cats and their doggedness, too –

the same to be said about nature

as it intoxicates my life with meaning

and escape from meaning,

and the passions that make me teeter

on the edge of becoming unrecognizable

to everyone but myself.

 

 

“As a lotus flower is born in water, grows in water and rises out of water to stand above it unsoiled, so I, born in the world, raised in the world having overcome the world, live unsoiled by the world”
~ Buddha

 

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton (I know that this painting depicts water lilies not lotus flowers, but it was born of a very special birthday memory and, I believe, reflects the sentiments of my poem and the Buddha quote).

On my birthday I make a toast of

Blessings

Peace and Love

For All

 

Snow White Cat

Copyright 2016 by DM Denton

donatellasmallest©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

Nature Insight: In a Cold Climate

Am working on a new post, but, in the meantime, something to help you pause and reflect, first shared a few years back …

 

yew-1With shorter days come slower nights,

more time to settle for solitude.

Love is gone and is here still,

more in the heart than can be lived.

For all there is a season and this is mine,

evergreen, and woven into wintery cobwebs.

Somehow I resist the temptation to brush them away.

 

I prefer winter…when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter.

Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show.

Andrew Wyeth, American Painter (1917 – 2009)

holly-with-bird-winter-border

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

As a Lotus Flower

Knapweed Page 26

Hardheads

I was told I must

celebrate

in some kind of obvious way,

because I prefer to hide in the wonder

of my life,

to stay quiet and even rather

still,

To drink the nectar

of solitude

instead of more company

than is good for me,

Cuckoo Flower Page 18

Cuckoo Flower

like too much wine

that would make me unrecognizable

to myself.

 

My thirst is for

the clarity of my thoughts,

the true rhythm of my heart,

and the wakefulness of my soul.

Although, in a way, I do seek

drunkenness, by

Heartease

Heartease

overindulging in the softness

of my cats and their doggedness, too –

the same to be said about nature

as it intoxicates my life with meaning

and escape from meaning,

and the passions that make me teeter

on the edge of becoming unrecognizable

to everyone but myself.

 

 

“As a lotus flower is born in water, grows in water and rises out of water to stand above it unsoiled, so I, born in the world, raised in the world having overcome the world, live unsoiled by the world”
~ Buddha

 

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton (I know that this painting depicts water lilies not lotus flowers, but it was born of a very special birthday memory and, I believe, reflects the sentiments of my poem and the Buddha quote).

On my birthday I make a toast of

Blessings

Peace and Love

For All

 

Snow White Cat

Copyright 2016 by DM Denton

donatellasmallest©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

The Shepherdess – A Copy

The Shepherdess Copy by DMD

I remember

 the silence

the solitude

the softness of lambs

looking for their mothers

the world

somewhere else

the youth

of my dreams

the peace in my heart.

 

I was not original

copying another’s vision

how was it wrong

to be so serene

as I learned

the technique

and satisfaction

of being an artist

long ago

and faraway

still within sight

every day.

I wanted to post something for Easter to go along with this painting that I did many many years ago. You may recognize it as a likeness of The Shepherdess (1866) by Johann Baptist Hofner. I used to copy a lot in the ‘old’ days – a great way to develop, I think, like a lamb learning from its mother, all innocence and belief .

The Shepherdess by Johann Baptist Hofner

The Shepherdess by Johann Baptist Hofner

Blessings for Easter and Spring!


donatellasmallest©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

Forget Me Not

There is a flower in silence and motive that causes thoughts of interrupted solitude.

For a while, grand illusions grew out of its brightness and reach.

It might have been as beloved as bluebells, trembling stems and tiny flowers spread in a fragrant mist as far as the eye could see.

Such an easily admired effect. All was good. And understood. Azure waves in daylight, scented stars at night. An audience that wanted nothing more or less.

Until it was growing in less predictable ways and places. At least by those expecting it to always sparkle and sway the same.

I’ve known this self-seeding flower forever. It comes and goes, disappearing as it has to, reappearing where it will, not to anyone else’s design; perhaps, not even to its own.

Well, it knows better.

Controlling this flower is a challenge. Pull it out and throw it away; being perennial it will merely find new ground. Its vulnerability finds strength in escaping boundaries that other sorts obey.

Its roots have a habit of curiosity and continuity. Lost and found in shade and filtered sunlight, its leaves hold out for dew.

There is a rumor that God almost forgot this flower, but I have never believed it.  Another, closer to the truth, claims the weight of armor almost drowned a chance for it to speak its truth.

Copyright 2015 by DM Denton

Myosotis (from the Greek: “mouse’s ear”, after the leaf) is a genus of flowering plants in the family Boraginaceae. In the northern hemisphere they are commonly called forget-me-nots. Illustration copyrighted 2015 by DM Denton

 

Not all were strangers, not the little myosotis stars bursting unforgettably through the dirt and grass.

“They always come up in legions, no matter how I thin them.”

Somehow she knew what her father was saying, feeling a return of pleasure when he gave her the bouquet he had made with a few tiny daisies, too.

~ From To A Strange Somewhere Fled

 

donatellasmallest©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

 

Thank you for your visit!

Comments are closed

The Shepherdess – A Copy

The Shepherdess Copy by DMD

I remember

 the silence

the solitude

the softness of lambs

looking for their mothers

the world

somewhere else

the youth

of my dreams

the peace in my heart.

 

I was not original

copying another’s vision

how was it wrong

to be so serene

as I learned

the technique

and satisfaction

of being an artist

long ago

and faraway

still within sight

every day.

I am breaking my ‘rule’ and posting this poem after writing it very spontaneously, very quickly. I wanted to post something for Easter to go along with this painting that I did many many years ago, that hangs in our living room. You may recognize it as a likeness of The Shepherdess (1866) by Johann Baptist Hofner. I used to copy other artists a lot in the ‘old’ days – it is a great way to develop, I think, like a lamb learning from its mother, all innocence and belief .

The Shepherdess by Johann Baptist Hofner

The Shepherdess by Johann Baptist Hofner

Blessings for Easter, Passover, and Spring!



donatellasmallest©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

Repost: In a Cold Climate

Originally posted December 2011 …

With shorter days come slower nights, more time to settle for solitude.

Love is gone and is here still, more in the heart than can be lived.

For all there is a season and this is mine, evergreen, and woven into wintery cobwebs.

Somehow I resist the temptation to brush them away.





I prefer winter…when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter.
Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show.

Andrew Wyeth, American Painter (1917 – 2009)


Thanks to Mindfulbalance for passing on this quote in the post Our Roots are Deep, Despite the Wind.


©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

Nature Insight: In a Cold Climate

With shorter days come slower nights, more time to settle for solitude.

Love is gone and is here still, more in the heart than can be lived.

For all there is a season and this is mine, evergreen, and woven into wintery cobwebs.

Somehow I resist the temptation to brush them away.

I prefer winter…when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter.

Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show.

Andrew Wyeth, American Painter (1917 – 2009)

Thanks to Mindfulbalance for passing on this quote in the post Our Roots are Deep, Despite the Wind.

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

My Writing Life: A Planet in the Milky Way

Did I escape into my writing or did my writing escape into me? When did words I couldn’t speak begin speaking for me? How was the need to be lost and found fulfilled by my own heart? Of all the things I wanted to do, to be, to discover, why did solitude become the most productive, defining and enlightening way for me?

Encarta Webster’s Dictionary says Solitude (is) the state of being alone, separated from other people, whether…a welcome freedom or…unhappy loneliness…

Freedom? Yes. Loneliness? No. Very often welcome but never unhappy. Not when I find myself surrounded by books and music, cats and comfort food, ideas and characters, sleep and wakefulness and those all important dreams in-between. I choose to step aside from others for more than a while, preferring the company of contemplation and creativity, a place for silent conversations and another kind of reality, a time to exist for my writing unapologetically.

My solitude is not dispiriting like loneliness or isolation. It doesn’t insist on separation or confinement like a severe punishment for my dislike of crowds or need for time alone. It doesn’t lock me in my room, mind and heart but opens my windows, doors and curiosities to fresh air and destinations and determinations. It’s monk-like but not habitual, a fluctuating state of emptying and seeking, an indwelling experience, an affirmation of being alone. It sets me apart for the health of my body, the expansion of my mind, the strengthening of my heart, and honoring of my soul.

My solitude isn’t utopian. It gives criticism without objectivity and pretends accomplishment without accolades. It doesn’t care whether or not anyone knows I’m here, working hard at or putting off my craft. It may even keep me from success, like a too protective father refusing to let any suitors in (for who could be good enough?). I have rebelled, running away to find a society that would love me and support me and pretend I was someone else. It was a lesson in not being able to avoid the unavoidable, a lesson hard to learn until it was everything I knew already.

I returned to a smug sense of “I told you so” but still my solitude was forgiving, encouraging me to be and advising that bygones were bygones…though not to forget!

A writer must never forget. But take each opportunity to look through starry eyes and wounds to see what the imagination beholds.

My writing life began when I was a child, shy and uncertain and a little lost in the stories that came to me. It continued as I became more adept at speaking like an actor or singer (no wonder I thought I wanted to be either or both) only seeming to hide behind words. It grew more and less important as my other life tried to usurp its reign, exiling it until a subject begged its return. It matured, slowly and with further threats to its sovereignty, to become wiser and steadier and better fortified but not necessarily safe from invasion again.

Why should I feel alone? Is not our planet in the Milky Way?
– Henry David Thoreau: Walden: Solitude

 

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.