Sunday, August 31, 2008

"Duplicating Snowflakes and Other Signs of Rain - Can Lily Escape? The Saga of Lily Goes On"




No need to worry about Lily.
Walk here along this splendid path,
one careless step
is as good as the other,
if you don't envision an outcome.
No tears can measure any sense of travel,
when one does not know the road.
New places lose their value,
without a reassurance of home.

So the two paintings are mine of course,
"Camille 1 and 2" 18x24 oils on canvas.
They are part of my "Victorian Series"

I confess that it would take A LOT for me to paint in this fashion again. I am more interested at this point in impressionism. I am also concentrating more on a more raw sense of thinking. Ahh stretching that bottled up person in me that could only follow rules and then worry that they were not followed close enough.. enough of that.. onward!

"Duplicating Snowflakes and Other Signs of Rain - Can Lily Escape?
The Saga of Lily Goes On"

White gauze on her eyes
taking hostage of her thinking
bandages over her mind
listless...
she fell.

Someone whispered to me,
"She will not fall far
no
not far at all.
No need to worry about Lily.
Walk here
along this splendid path
one careless step
is as good as the other
if you don't envision an outcome.
Sadness lends a soulful journey"

I think of her unending now
the undoing of Lily.
Lily
neglected in the dark.
Me with my jewel-less crown
who did I think I was?
How could I have trusted
listened
to anyone else?
Wasn't she mine for the caring?
Wasn't it me she trusted?

One by one
the monsters surfaced
and Lily
could not fend them off
her mouth filled with cotton.
A giant squid surfaced
pulled at her energy
down
into caves
without openings.
Her treasured creativity
inside the deepest sea.

I cried and screamed,
I pulled my hair
and ran to the shoreline.
"Oh god Lily
wait for me!
If resurrection be possible
I will cause you to float toward saints
pull away those scathing tentacles
let me
please
instill breath in you again.
Oh Lily
forgive me."

No tears can measure any sense of travel
when one does not know the road.
New places lose their value
without a reassurance of home.
When I think of all those masks
that I agreed to toss
away
ohhh.
I stripped us both of shelters
from beating days of rain.
Oh Lily
I will stand in prayer
although I have no hands.

The dragon changed his mind
he beckoned me in a lie
a pitiful story I had believed in.
I thought he was grooming me
that I would know a certain light
but before I recognized his presence
was evil
I had lost my way.

Restless in my heart
my soul torn to shreds
pieces bleeding only black and white
the colors had indeed abandoned us
both.

I was only sleeping
distracted by orchids
who sang tunes
of contemplative searches
for memories past ours
those ones that birth
unmatched miracles.
I was only praying
for a lighter day
I failed to see the sunshine
was already here.

"Oh Lily
let me find a softer letter
you remember that contract
don't you?
The out clause?
I know it is hidden away
somewhere.
I fixed it in that snowflake
the one we tried to measure?
You remember
don't you?

Not to worry
Lily
someone whispers in the wind.
I have my pallet filled now.
No, not with colors
but with moons.
No matter what Lily
I promise you
I will wait on Winter
no matter how long it takes
to find that snowflakes duplicate
OK?"

And with those words of mine
Lily
feeling the rain
simply faded away.

31 August 2008
Kathy Ostman-Magnusen


~~*~~

The Images are of my paintings "Camille 1" and Camille ll" both are 18x24 oil on
canvas. They are part of my "Victorian Series" Camille is a real person that I knew
from long ago. She was an extremely sensitive little girl, which is why I painted
her. I rented costumes and created a tea party for her mother, sister and a foreign
exchange student from France,who stayed with me that Summer. I chose these paintings
because "Lily" is the inner child.

~~*~~

ABOUT Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

I paint and sculpt female fantasy art and map fairy tale adventures. I dream of
beautiful women on canvas and art of exotic women. My career has ALWAYS been art. It
has up and downs, for creativity is a very tempestuous lover. Some days I hate it,
but I cannot help myself. I succumb to its relentless outbursts that include too many
colors to ignore. Not always perfect but always striving.

I have illustrated for Hay House Inc.,"Meditations of Women Who Do Too Much" CARDS,
taken from Anne Wilson Schaef's book. I also illustrated for Neil Davidson, who was
considered for the Pulitzer Prize in feature writing, and several other publications.
My paintings are collected worldwide.

Giclee canvas art work, greeting cards and posters are available for sale on my
website:

http://www.kathysart.com

Sign up for my mailing list: FREE ART GIFTS suitable for children: Drawings of
whimsical angel pictures, legends of mermaids and fairies in art. Tiny angels whisper
fantasy art for shrink art, or coloring pages. Also a "Letter From the Tooth Fairy",
ya just never know when you might need one!

I am Represented by:

Monkdogz Urban Art, Inc., 547 West 27th Street, 5th floor, New York, NY 10001

ORIGINAL ART may be purchased through Monkdogz

http://monkdogz.com/chelseagallery/artistart/Magnusen/artist_magnusen.htm

Check out one of my 73 Squidoo lenses: Fantasy Art Woman|Beautiful Women Goddess Art:

http://www.squidoo.com/kathysart


(I am Lily, Lily is me, she may be you as well?)

Aloha, Kathy

~~*~~

Friday, August 29, 2008

"From Inside An Open Grave My Lily Did Escape"



"From Inside An Open Grave My Lily did Escape"

Lily opened her eyes from sleeping
lest death take her ore
and rob her of her own breath
this grave
opened up toward hope.
Remembering all
in conflict
wound or victory
thus
Lily spoke:

"Let me be a snowflake
drift in the wind
connect with the atmosphere.
Solace
solace
floating till I reach another wound
past this one.
This one is too hard.

Healing.
Let me know that space
no one around
freedom to dance over oceans
feet never even touching
its liquid whispers
at all.
Yes
I want to fly that high.
I don't care what you say.

I met a sea lion once
he sang along with me
as I ran across the beach.
At first I felt afraid
as magic entered too close.
How could I possibly be that free?
And then?
I melted into it.
Not one other soul around
to deny me
my own tongue
worrisome
broken
setting boundaries
silent to forbidding
if only for a time.

Am I strong enough
To get that back?
Does the breeze tell me I'm OK?
Am I thirsty enough
to stretch past my own clauses?
Am I visible
to me
at all?

How black can the sea be?
How far is the sky?
Might I capture those stars?
How empty, how full
how long
how many times will I commit
to being my own self?

Stars do turn in different directions
within their same galaxy.
Perhaps I am too judgmental.
Wouldn't that be OK
for me too?
Choices to not just embrace
but become their living shadows.

The mystery combs my hair
cleans my body
brushes my teeth
scrapes every single barnacle
away
when I let it.

How lonely is that dragon
or is he in fact
really OK?
Has he gone on to march in parades
under the sea
without me?
Is it really true
what doubters say?

Silver Strand
forever glistening
I hear it still
and I need to
get back.

There is a sandcastle there
the tide cannot overtake it
the magic forever saved
deep inside
my mind.
Dragons yes
they live forever.
And everyone else is a lier.

In moment of doubt
transgressions plotted
It crossed my mind.
It's maybe true
what insecurities say
I might just be addicted
to every unknown fall.
Unsure
standing still I see them
attaching themselves to me
stubborn on my face
will I ever recognize my soul?
Will I ever come up for air?

Masked recusers died in the Fall
I saw them changing
their minds.
All of those promises
dropping to the ground
brown
raked up
and burned before winter.
Singing
earthquakes come here too.

I wanted to run
to that other side they talk about.
With blood in my ears
I realized
they were mistaken
plagued
by their own determination
that was actually indifference
to love.
Because
oh
they forgot to be kind.
I thought that was the message.

No matter
a dragon awaits me
I felt him breathing
once
on the Silver Strand
Tis not a poor desert flower
in a jar.
No.
I set my table
candle lit
messages unmarred.
And each and every breath
I now take
reflects a sacred note.
My dragon lives forever
with in that grave and out."

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
28 August 2008

My career has ALWAYS been art. It has up and downs, for creativity is a very tempestuous lover. Some days I hate it, but I cannot help myself. I succumb to its relentless outbursts that include too many colors to ignore. Not always perfect but always striving.

Be sure to check out my Squidoo lens: Fantasy Art Woman|Beautiful Women Goddess Art:
http://www.squidoo.com/kathysart


Do you Twitter? Here is mine: http://twitter.com/kathysart

The image is "Bronze Nude 1" 24x36 oil on canvas. It can be found at Barebrush:
http://www.barebrush.com/Artists/ALB43e.html

~~*~~

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

"Sometimes I Feel Frozen - Bleeding Snow"




Frozen,
that is how I feel.
At times,
I am still haunted by our flaws,
together.

Some people must take separate roads,
travel does not come easy,
despite what you thought,
I truly never blessed it.

Evenings get cold,
sometimes,
still,
without breezes,
and oft times without breathing.

You remember that song I wrote?
The one about ice on the sidewalk,
bleeding snow,
that's just the way I saw you,
as bleeding snow.
Yet, you never claimed that kind of ice.

I write in the afternoons now,
no more pretending I don't,
no longer hiding scraps of paper,
on past due notes.

No one is perfect,
that will always,
always be true.

When I'm alone I send out apologies,
to passers by,
no matter they don't hear me.
I evoke social graces,
sentiments that may fall empty,
on a perfect stranger's deaf ears.
I owed you that much,
I am the first to say,
too little and way too late.

Yet...
you never got it,
never heard,
never dreamed my dreams,
or wanted to.
Who would frame that kind of art?

Being cold,
takes a long time to recover from.
Frozen statues in the dark,
if I look out past windows,
I still can see you.

Frozen,
that is how I feel,
at times.
I am still haunted by our flaws,
together.
Yet standing still,
has given me...
wisdom,
despite my un-mending.

I ask myself often,
what was I fleeing to?
If I stay very still,
not moving one single bit,
and feel the colors I now paint with?
I know.
http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif

30 July 2008
by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
copyright 2008


The image is of my painting, "Sunset" 24x48 oil on canvas. It is from my "Passion Series"

I am represented by Monkdogz Urban Art in New York http://www.monkdogz.com

Check out one of my Squidoo lenses: Hawaiian Travel|Hawaiian Fun Food
http://www.squidoo.com/hawaiianartprints/


Aloha, Kathy


~~*~~


Saturday, July 19, 2008

Article Writing-Listing Top Seven is Heaven



Top 7 is heaven
that's what I've heard
ring out the bells
this tips not absurd.

Article writing
make a list of top seven
pick out a subject
and present it with leaven.

A plan is so useful
tools of the trade
follow a guideline
with your words to parade.

Writing articles
to create a good following
thoughts that contribute
to readers is hallowing.

Write those articles
come one and all
bring sales to your website
send out that call.

To write is sublime
no excuses to clatter
aim for the sky
and stop all that chatter.

Seven is heaven
that's what I've heard
now pay attention
to what I have learned.

Chris Knight is right
his knowledge accepted
Seven's the number
to not be neglected.

Keep up your standards
plenty of text
roll out those lines
and don't get rejected.

Line up those thoughts
introduction in mind
then list your seven
a conclusion to find.

Take your sweet time
do not whine
fingers to keyboard
forever sublime.

Write those top tips
Seven or ten
organized thoughts
will bring a good end.

Blog it, log it
set the stage
top tips of seven
will bring a new age.

Apply yourself
and you will see
your efforts will soar
its revolutionary

Discover new things
don't be a bore
writing new wisdom
will bring comments galore!

No slackin' you're askin'?
Why no that's silly
write your articles
and make them a dilly.

However you write
or despite all your plights
its writing, yes writing
that will give you delight.

So onward young man
despite your said age
no fooling around
as you write the next page.

Young ladies move forward
29 our said line
stay forever lovely
as you write in spare time.

Onward writing soldiers
write and submit
and remember that seven
will make you legit.

18 July 2008
Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
copyright 2008

The image is a little painting I did of a frog.. well DA huh? I do a lot of little watercolor sketches just for fun. I paint them then put them in a shoe box. I do the same with my poems... put them in a pile.. yet with my poems and articles I also post them on my blogs and Ezine Articles which is the top ezine to post on. I have one poem on Ezine Articles that has had over 25K reads. Obviously that is more than I could get on any one of my zillion blogs.

Happy day to you and if you are in New York be sure to stop by Monkdogz Urban Art who is showing my work in an International show called "Zepher". http://www.monkdogz.com

Aloha, Kathy

~~*~~



Sunday, January 6, 2008

A Dark Wanderer in a Free Obituary Search

A Dark Wanderer in a Free Obituary Search

I think sometimes I'll discover me
dark wanderer
in a free obituary search.
I'll find that I have gone past here
and found a different now.

Drawings of scorpions
and grim reaper drawings
gothic angel art?
I forgot to list their names.
I think it is because they sang
so darkly.

Neon Blue slept here
I feared she would.
She got tired of all those noises.
She got tired of all the screams
that made havoc in her mind.
Projected inappropriately
past those midnight walls
Lily heard her
letting them come out.
Lily and I
in the dark holding hands.
And will hear those memories
forever.

Grim reaper
grim reaper
on my walls
and in my bed
late at night
I hear you breathing.
Obituary searches found my name?
You have stained my heart
caused me forever to know sadness
despite tokens of good cheer
tiny angels will not rest here with ease.
Not for me and not for Lily
despite her well dressed protests.


It is with sadness
colored with regret
I hear her
and yet dear Lily
tiny angel
will forever point toward stars.
In the light I see her
still hopeful.
I always have.

And yet..
Moans come from the closet still.
I want to drag them out
wrap them in a blanket
suffocate their need of me
tie them to the other side
of somewhere I can't find again.
I want to become cold
become a calloused word.

Lily won't speak of it to her
she would not recall it anyway
not an honest story she'd remember.
Perfect not to admit to.
Who would?
I will hold back all those tainted fields.
No daisies
no roses planted with care
no little ponds I wished I could maintain
that would love me back
and lend comfort to a little girl.

In times of weakness
Yes, I think sometimes I'll discover me
dark wanderer
in a free obituary search.
I'll find that I have gone past here
and found a different now
yet I know one thing more
secrets shared
I will always find peace in Lily's arms.


copyright 2008
Kathy Ostman-Magnusen




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