my portrait of Jesus

At the age 5, I drew this portrait of Jesus. Looking at it now, I think it's fair to say that the sheep may safely graze. It's highly doubtful that any wolves would recognize them as sheep. But, check out those sandals. Yup, those are definitely sandals.

(I drew this on the inside cover of a copy The Children's Bible, which had been presented to me by my parents in 1969).

Postcard from Barack

Guess what? You're probably aware that my bud Barack and his family were vacationing during Christmas in his birthplace Hawaii, and while he was there, he sent me this beautiful postcard.

(I know I had you fooled for a moment. This was an assignment from a recent PhotoShop class. It's not my favorite, but it was kind of fun to make.)

Reflections on the Death of a Lovebird (short story - 1995)

(class assignment)

Last week, my sister's beloved lovebird, Tico, died. Becky had been stressed for weeks, studying night and day in preparation for her "comps," examinations required for graduate study in English. Becky has neglected her own wants and needs, let alone those of the exuberant bird. But now it was too late; she'd never see her peach-faced friend again. Heartbroken, she blamed herself for Tico's illness and passing. For example, Becky had recently lost her patience with Tico's relentless, high-pitched shrieking, particularly during study hours. To discourage these outbursts, Becky covered Tico's cage with a towel, banishing her to another room. The shrieking grew worse; however; perhaps Tico was trying to tell her she was sick. Becky, however, had been too wrapped up in her studies to notice. And now Becky was holding herself in contempt, as if she had been a negligent mother who had ignored the cries of her hungry infant.

Medieval Cemetery in San Juan, Puerto Rico - 2006

Gone Batty - 2009

(class assignment - done in Adobe Create Suite PhotoShop) - can you tell I like bats? They are great for the environment, and most of them are kind of cute. Note: I did not take the original photograph. I just did the cut out.

The Lover Who Would Stay (poem - 1993)

class assignment - poem using metaphor (smoking compared to a dangerous lover)

Fifteen years old with time on my hands, thought I'd take you up on a dare.
To Marlboro Country, that's where I went. Tried to ride your wicked, black mare.

By the time I had met you, you had been through all my friends.
But I was your baby chick; they had been a "bunch of hens."

Muirkirk Road (first short story - 1995)

(class assignment)

The year was 1969. I was a first grader, flaxen-haired and blue-eyed. Like other first graders, I was apprehensive about attending school all day long. Adrift in a sea of faces, I often longed for the security of home. Many of my new classmates had brown skin, something I had seen before, but only at a distance. Mom referred to these people as "Negroes" or "blacks." The black kids lived on Muirkirk Road, in old houses and trailers. Fascinated with them, I quickly became friends with several of the girls in my class. But I was particularly taken with Bruce Morgan, the class clown. He was the most popular kid in our class, winning his many fans during recess with his impressions of Motown stars. I both envied and admired his talents.

Dolphins at the National Aquarium in Baltimore - 2008

The Mask (poem - November 1993)

For now we see through a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then shall I understand fully, even as I have been fully understood.

I Corinthians 13: 12 (Bible, Revised Standard Version)

one night, I awoke and found myself walking
through the misty darkness and dewy grass

to the brightness calling out in the distance
beckoning, come home (come home)

over the dunes and to the beach, along the moonlit path
a celestial being took my hand

guiding me to the silvery shore, the boundary
separating life and death, this world from the next

like a silken cocoon hiding the wings of a Monarch,
a majestic ship waited, sails at half-mast

cherubim and seraphim ushered me
inside towards the beckoning brilliance

swept into ecstasy, helpless without fear
I surrendered my soul, joyfully dancing forever

in the warmth of the light with those gone before me
many faces, some familiar, all of them friends

suddenly, stood the One, statuesque and strong
peering but through a mask

I knew those eyes, but how? I'd not been there before
then, His guise removed, I knew

Jack in the Money (short story - 1995)

(class assignment - didn't turn out exactly as well as I wanted, but Jack was truly a confidence man, and I wanted to attempt to capture his spirit).

Working in customer service at USA Today is a crazy kind of existence. Clocks are ticking everywhere, but there is never enough time. The pressure is unrelenting, but we do our best to juggle deadlines and customers. While the deadlines pass, the steady stream of customers seems to flow for eternity. Our jobs require that we recognize that "the customer is always right." And everyone does. Everyone, that is, except Jack.

Men at Work (poem - October 1995)

(class assignment - personal/reflective prose)

Five against one, but there was no turning back
I braced for their cat calls, fearing an attack

Frantic, I grabbed for the spray in my purse.
And proceeded with caution, no time to rehearse

Hey little sweatheart, why you actin' so afraid
Have no plans to hurtcha, I'm just looking to get laid

Rolling up his sleeves, he flashed an eery, toothless grin
'Most Wanted's where I saw him or at least his evil twin

Like Goliath, he came charging, felt my knees begin to give
My heart pounded like a hammer, but I knew I'd fight to live

I warned and then pleaded; he politely conceded by grabbing me 'round the waist
Without hesitating, I fired like a robot; some say I acted in haste

The others ran to him, the joker and flirt, the otherwise harmless drunk
But even they knew he had gone too far; yes, in their eyes he'd sunk

Though I could have stayed and chatted; I quickly fled the scene
But I wrote about my triumph, sent it to Ms. Magazine

Looking back, too bad I had to teach him such a lesson
At least it was with mace, though, and not a Smith and Wesson

Introduction: Writing and Visual Media Design

In my late twenties, I happened to take a creative writing class. I can honestly say it was among the most fun and cathartic experiences I have ever had, and for a time I belonged to a small writer's group. This is not to say, of course, that my short stories and poems were particularly good. I would even say that some are a bit disconcerting. But they reflected a youthful intensity. I will share a few of them with you and am thinking of revisiting this whole creative writing thing again. There is a lot I would like to say, but as a mom and student, and one who works full time, I don't get much free time. I have recently begun to dabble with visual media development tools and photography. I am just a beginner, to say the least. However, I'm having fun, and that's really what matters. Stories, photos, and other creations on the way! :) Please let me know if anything strikes your fancy, speaks to you, or whatever, and free to share your own creative works!

Note: I am not posting in the order that I created these things - just as I find them.