Jeanne’s flyer: 1988
(posted in memory of JeanYee Wong: mentor and gifted Scribe)
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quills, ink sticks, chisels
key board, mouse, stylus, brush, paint
tools of the Spirit!
Jeanne Poland's Poetry Blog
25 Feb 2017 1 Comment
in Poetry, scribe Tags: 1988, brush, chisels, ink sticks, Jeanne's Flyer, key board, mentor and gifted scribe, Mouse, paint, posted in memory of JeanYee Wong, quills, scribe, stylus, tools of the Spirit
Jeanne’s flyer: 1988
(posted in memory of JeanYee Wong: mentor and gifted Scribe)
.
quills, ink sticks, chisels
key board, mouse, stylus, brush, paint
tools of the Spirit!
03 Feb 2017 Leave a comment
in paint, Poetry Tags: brushes tip-toe, children paint the sunin the upper corner, color double-dutches, finger paints go in the mouth, paint, paper curls, rays resplendent, warmth is elementary, Wendell Color Illustration
Wendell Color Illustration
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Children
paint the sun
peeking in the upper corner
rays resplendent
“make your day”!
Houses have a chimney
since warmth is
elementary.
Brushes tip-!toe
paper curls
color double-dutch-es
‘cross the page!
Finger paints
go in the mouth
slide o’er tongue
to tummy!
A Feast of Paint to you and you!
07 Dec 2014 1 Comment
in Family Tags: bean bag chair, climb, color, colors and paintbrush, cry, design, fall, iPad, paint, snuggle close
bean bag chair to climb –
fall and cry: or snuggle close –
color paint design
30 Nov 2012 2 Comments
in Family Tags: click clock, clock-man, dreams, elders, memories, molt, musk, nostrils, paint, spirits, tick tock, touchstones
Introduced the “clock-man” to my 4 year old:
Little hand, big hand, forward move: one, two, three.
Time passes on the clock, on the calendar too
But touchstones stay the same for you and me.
Little hand, big hand, forward move: one, two, three.
Tick-tock, click-clock arrows speed to lead
Us to the dreams we paint: the hopes, the deeds.
Time passes on the clock; on the calendar too
Weeks, to months, to years, to lives…
Then on to memories worn on our hides, insides, tribes.
But touchstones stay the same for you and me.
The elders molt to spirits; the new reach for our care
Our nostrils scent the musk of need and nurture everywhere.