Saturday, February 25, 2006

This is my faraway tree


Hi everyone.

I thought I'd share this with you. I've been thinking of what I can share and I thought I'd share the Tree Of Life Mural I painted on my dining room wall.

Its the first thing I see when I get home and always a welcome treat. I felt like that tree painted itself after I finished it. I couldn't believe I painted it. Maybe I didn't and some magical hand painted it instead? Anyway, that's how magical that tree is to me.

That tree spawned the plant mural beside it. They're a cross between venus fly traps, ferns and some mutations thrown in as the three eyeballs would attest to.




I've painted, conceived, drawn many a visual concepts in front of that tree. I almost wish it is a portal so I can stay and do art all day instead of going off to work. LOL!

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Song


Heart Swing

There is a tree of Light, my love
That branches out and on and in,
And touches each of us in turn
That we may bear the fruit of love.

Down, down the leaves must fall
To teach the grass to grow,
And I lay here expectantly
For the gift of golden snow.

We need not climb the roughened bark
Nor grovel in the stony soil,
For there's a swing -- a knotted rope
That will serve for quite a while.

Down, down the leaves must fall
To teach the grass to grow,
And I lay here expectantly
For the gift of golden snow.

I can climb, of course, alone and all
And ascend to greater things,
Or join with you in drifting play
With a spinning push from your heart.

Down, down the leaves must fall
To teach the grass to grow,
And I lay here expectantly
For the gift of golden snow.


Monday, February 13, 2006

The Cup

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Ms Dementia Praecox, drawn for Anita Marie Moscoso, who created this wonderful character, as a part of her Faraway series.


Ms Dementia Praecox
Holds out a cup to me.

``Don't drink it, don't drink."
A warning voice whispers in my head.

Something moves within the pale green liquid,
Something with fire in its heart.

Not like a tequila worm.
This is alive, and malevolent.

Ms Dementia Praecox
Has eyes that burn through me like flaming arrows.

`Don't drink," the voice whispers, then is stilled
As my hand curls around the cup.

I draw it close to my lips
And the worm slithers up the glass and into my mouth.

I feel it seeking the secret places in my mind,
bringing cold red light into the darkness.

In the labyrinthine coils of my disordered mind
The worm sees itself.

Ms Dementia Praecox
steals away, her work is done.

I drank my own madness from my own cup.
She merely held it for me.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Before I Scramble Down the Tree

The Land of Chinese New Year will soon be chugging off, but before it goes I must tell you about two wonderful books of dragons: Dragonology, the Complete book of Dragons and The Dragonology Handbook published by Candlewick Press. Both are exquisite, have a vintage look about them and are aimed at those who wish to make a serious study of the various dragons of the world. Perhaps the Jade Emperor would enjoy one, or we may have students among us who are searching for a new and unusual subject to pursue. Anyone who makes or admires altered books will also appreciate the fold-outs, envelopes, and other "fancies" the books contain.

Warning: dragons are not to be studied carelessly, they are formidable creatures and "dabbling" in this study just to encounter one is highly discouraged.

Mr Change-About

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Everyone stared at Mr Change-About. At least as he was the only person in the room they thought that was who he must be. He got up and came towards them...

There was something that happened to Mr Change-About when nobody obeyed him. He grew tall and thin. His broad smile disappeared and a frown came over his face. He looked a most unpleasant person.

Mr Change-About is from the Land of Spells and Enchantments which, rumour hath it, is making a brief stop at the top of the Faraway Tree. Make sure to stay clear of him.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Ms Demetia Praecox

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Even if you are dying of thirst don't drink from the cup of Ms Demetia Praecox. To drink from her cup is to sink into demeted oblivion.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Nightfall in Training

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Sunday, February 05, 2006

Nightfall From Faraway




In my hometown, which is a place called Faraway, a man named Mr. Nightfall stands under a pear tree full of light green poisonous fruit and waits for the Sun to set.

Mr. Nightfall is my neighbor and our streets, like all the other streets in Faraway are lined with deadly fruit trees and deadly gardens. All these dark shady places are kept and tended by people with pale faces and empty eyes and here in our town Faraway no one is Sane and no one really lives because no one is really alive.

When Mr. Nightfall comes from Faraway sometimes he brings storms and in that wildness all you'll see, all you'll hear is Mr. Nightfall. You'll know he's coming and worst of all you won't be able to stop him.

When Mr. Nightfall crosses your path and he settles over your town you'll know he's there because your skin will start to feel to tight and you won't be able to pull air into your lungs.

Everything will seem...very Faraway.

That' when you'll know Mr. Nightfall is close enough to put out his cold, dark hand and lay it over your shoulder.

Once I followed Mr. Nightfall to a city with stores and cars and a coffee stand where the woman who served me wore a picture on her chest of a creature with stars in her hair. I asked if the creature in the picture was from the Well of Angra Lei and the Woman squeezed the cup of coffee so tight at the sound of my voice that the top popped off and the scalding hot coffee filled her eyes and mouth and she didn't cry out. Not even a little

The woman had turned to stone, her face was frozen into a mask and her eyes had rolled up into her head and I could hear her someplace deep inside screaming and screaming and screaming and she will never stop.

They never do when they are taken Faraway.

Mr. Nightfall didn' come back for me, he never turns back but he did call out to me and I followed him through the town and the entire time he cursed and spat and hissed like one of the cats that' not really a cat from back home in Faraway and he said, "They know I'm coming."

"Of course they know you're coming Mr. Nightfall, don'they always?"

"No, not like this they haven'tknown me like this for centuries I don't like this Miss Praecox. No I don't like it at all."

This time the people in this little town by the sea knew Mr. Nightfall was coming. There were candles in windows and there wasn't a soul on the street. They were locked behind doors and the curtains where drawn and they knew they were very aware Nightfall was coming.

As Mr. Nightfall crossed the city I stopped here and there and looked in windows and when I could I found people and I touched them, carefully, quietly with my left hand and I told them my name and their minds stopped liked old clocks.

I could hear it loud as thunder as gears and cogs and wheels that turn their minds
ground to a halt and I could hear what they took with them to Faraway.

My name.

" Enjoying your visit Miss Praecox?"

" I always do Mr. Nightfall."

He reached out to pat me on the head and thought better of it, " Just like you're Mother, we were a team in our day to. We worked well together.

The Praecox have always done their best work with Nightfall."

" So what's happened here Mr. Nightfall, where is everyone?"

He held a newspaper up and showed it to me. I couldn't read it of course and he ran a cold dark finger under the headline and read it to me.

" Hurricane Force Winds Strike Seattle, Power Outages State Wide, locals ready for Nightfall and freezing temperatures. They were ready for me this time. Lord I hate the press"

" Killjoys" I said with feeling.

" Well, there's always tomorrow, isn't there Miss Dementia Praecox?"

I agreed because everyone knows Nightfall comes from Faraway and sometimes it brings madness with it and it always will.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Waiting By A Dry Well

There is nothing so un-credible as waiting by a dry well,
and an illusion, that it is.
A well is never always dry, like
I had read in books and seen in film plots.
Seeing things in black and white
heightens dramatic tone,
but is not always true.
There is no such thing as literally
waiting by a dry well,
because nobody would.
Would they? Surely none exist
at the Faraway Tree, or at Riversleigh,
where the river ever flows. Another
myth, perhap, and as
Shakespeare says, that thinking makes it so?
copyright Monika Roleff 2006.