"This work is unlike any other, in its range of rich, conjuring imagery and its dexterity, its smart voice. Carroll-Hackett doesn’t spare us—but doesn’t save us—she draws a blueprint of power and class with her unflinching pivot: matter-of-fact and tender." —Jan Beatty

Posts tagged ‘grandchild’

Sick for a Week Prompt Catch-Up! 7 New Prompts!

21 October 2017

Make art about feeling like you can’t speak, about not saying things you need to say, about self-silencing.

silenced

22 October 2017

Make art about being new to language, a child learning language.

baby language

23 October 2017

Make art about the first naming of things.

naming

24 October 2017

Make art about a fever.

fever

25 October 2017

Make art about long sleep.

sleep dreams

26 October 2017

Make art about seeing the web.

matrix

27 October 2017

Make art about seeing the doctor.

doctor

Daily Prompt Love Catch-Up <3 Carnivals, Weeds, and a Fistful of Stars

10 June 2017

Accompanied my daughter and son-in-law today for that GrandPerson’s first trip to a fair.

Make art inspired by a fair, or carnival.

Max Merry Go Round 2

11 June 2017

Traveling on back roads today, my favorite way to get anywhere.

Make art about back roads, country lanes, two-lane blacktops cutting through nothing but countryside.

12 June 2017

Grading and gardening day.

Make art about pulling weeds, about weeding things out.

pulling weeds

13 June 2017

Dreamt someone I love brought me a gift.

Make art about a fistful of stars.

hand filled with light

Daily Prompt Catch-Up <3 Family, Ground, and Grief

8 April 2017

First Birthday party today for my grandson!

Make art about the miracles of family. 

max laughing

 

9 April 2017

Tilling in the summer garden today.

Make art about breaking ground. 

breaking ground

10 April 2017

A friend of mine lost ten family members in the recent tragic events in Syria. 

Make art about extreme loss, or extreme grief. 

grief-reaction

Daily Prompt Catch-Up! Defiance and Remaking

2 December 2016

De·fi·ance (dəˈfīəns/) noun

open resistance; bold disobedience.

“the demonstration was held in defiance of official warnings”

Make art about acts of defiance, small or large.

small-acts

3 December 2016

Making new stocking for our family with remnants of late 40s-early 50s vintage fabric.

Make art about remaking something old into something new.

vintage-fabric

Daily Prompt Catch-Up <3 Sometimes the Prompt Is All About What You Believe

 

6 August 2016

Time with my daughter, son-in-law, and that miraculous GrandPerson. Looking into my grandson’s eyes, I can see eternity ❤

Make art about what you see in a child’s eyes.

0

7 August 2016

Love coming home to find tomatoes ripening to red, okra reaching fingers to the sky, even those last cucumbers still making their climb up the trellis 🙂

Deep within each one of us lies a garden.~Julie Moir Messervy

Make art about the garden that lies within you.

heart as a garden

8 August 2016

Had the chance today to spend time with my sister and a beautiful cousin I haven’t seen in years. So good for my heart!

Make art about extended family.

Crickett and Sherrie and me

9 August 2016

Thinking on this today.

Make art about the power of belief.

gita belief

Daily Prompt Catch-Up! Grandchildren, and Nieces, and Signs on the Road

Happy National Poetry Month! I got a little side-tracked by a visit with my beautiful daughter and her precious new son 🙂 So enjoy a cluster of prompts for catch-up! 🙂 

4/16/2016

I’m over the moon in love 🙂 His name is Max and he is beyond magical 🙂 So’s his Mama 🙂

Grandchild

Maxine Kumin

All night the douanier in his sentry box
at the end of the lane where France begins plays fox
and hounds with little spurts of cars
that sniff to a stop at the barrier
and declare themselves. I stand at the window
watching the ancient boundaries that flow
between my daughter’s life and mine dissolve
like taffy pulled until it melts in half
without announcing any point of strain
and I am a young unsure mother again
stiffly clutching the twelve-limbed raw
creature that broke from between my legs, that stew
of bone and membrane loosely sewn up in
a fierce scared flailing other being.

We blink, two strangers in a foreign kitchen.
Now that you’ve drained your mother dry and will
not sleep, I take you in my arms, brimful
six days old, little feared-for mouse.
Last week when you were still a fish
in the interior, I dreamed you thus:
The douanier brought you curled up in his cap
buttoned and suited like him, authority’s prop
–a good Victorian child’s myth–
and in his other hand a large round cheese
ready to the point of runniness.
At least there, says the dream, no mysteries.

Toward dawn I open my daughter’s cupboard on
a choice of calming teas–infusions
verbena, fennel, linden, camomile,
shift you on my shoulder and fill the kettle.
Age has conferred on me a certain grace.
You’re a package I can rock and ease
from wakefulness to sleep. This skill comes back
like learning how to swim. Comes warm and quick
as first milk in the breasts. I comfort you.
Body to body my monkey-wit soaks through.

Later, I wind the outside shutters up.
You sleep mouse-mild, topped with camomile.
Daylight slips past the douane. I rinse my cup.
My daughter troubles sleep a little while
longer. The just-milked cows across the way
come down their hillside single file
and the dream, the lefthand gift of ripened brie
recurs, smelly, natural, and good
wanting only to be brought true
in your own time: your childhood.

Make art about babies, the miraculous beginning of life.

DSCN2562
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4/17/2016

One of my favorite things about traveling are the signs on the road 🙂 And one of my favorite poets ❤

Signs

by Larry Levis

1.

All night I dreamed of my home

of the roads that are so long

and straight they die in the middle—

among the spines of elderly weeds

on either side, among the dead cats,

the ants who are all eyes, the suitcase

thrown open, sprouting failures.

2.

And this evening in the garden

I find the winter

inside a snail shell, rigid and

cool, a little stubborn temple,

its one visitor gone.

3.

If there were messages or signs,

I might hear now a voice tell me

to walk forever, to ask

the mold for pardon, and one

by one I would hear out my sins,

hear they are not important—that I am

part of this rain

drumming its long fingers, and

of the roadside stone refusing

to blink, and of the coyote

nailed to the fence with its

long grin.

And when there are no messages

the dead lie still—

their hands crossed so strangely

like knives and forks after supper.

4.

I stay up late listening.

My feet tap the floor,

they begin a tiny dance

which will outlive me.

They turn away from this poem.

It is almost Spring.

Make art about seeing signs.

TVD_S7_Road_to_Mystic_Falls_Poster_HQ

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4/18/2106

Today is my niece Jennifer’s birthday. I was fourteen when she was born, and I was absolutely certain that my sister Andrea had this miraculous fairy child just for my enjoyment. From scrambling through woods to the tune of Little Rabbit Foo Foo to watching her become a loving accomplished incredible woman, and one of the best mothers I’ve ever seen, that fairy child grown to woman has consistently been one of the greatest gifts of my life. No other poem would do 🙂 ❤

Phenomenal Woman

by Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. 

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size   

But when I start to tell them, 

They think I’m telling lies. 

I say, 

It’s in the reach of my arms, 

The span of my hips,   

The stride of my step,   

The curl of my lips.   

I’m a woman 

Phenomenally. 

Phenomenal woman,   

That’s me. 

I walk into a room 

Just as cool as you please,   

And to a man, 

The fellows stand or 

Fall down on their knees.   

Then they swarm around me, 

A hive of honey bees.   

I say, 

It’s the fire in my eyes,   

And the flash of my teeth,   

The swing in my waist,   

And the joy in my feet.   

I’m a woman 

Phenomenally. 

Phenomenal woman, 

That’s me. 

Men themselves have wondered   

What they see in me. 

They try so much 

But they can’t touch 

My inner mystery. 

When I try to show them,   

They say they still can’t see.   

I say, 

It’s in the arch of my back,   

The sun of my smile, 

The ride of my breasts, 

The grace of my style. 

I’m a woman 

Phenomenally. 

Phenomenal woman, 

That’s me. 

Now you understand 

Just why my head’s not bowed.   

I don’t shout or jump about 

Or have to talk real loud.   

When you see me passing, 

It ought to make you proud. 

I say, 

It’s in the click of my heels,   

The bend of my hair,   

the palm of my hand,   

The need for my care.   

Cause I’m a woman 

Phenomenally. 

Phenomenal woman, 

That’s me.

 

Make art about a phenomenal woman in your life. 

jenn

 

 

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