origional bead artistry by CJ Wells
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Bead Artistry -CJ Wells
A short while back, I promised to post some of my wife's work. I finally was able to get some photos that hopefully will do it justice. This piece, as with most of her material was of her own design. The detail involved here is exquisite and most of her work is done in tiny seed beads which require among many things untold patience.
Isn't she great? I'm proud of her work!
I'll post some additional angles maybe later today, yet another piece of her work.
Isn't she great? I'm proud of her work!
I'll post some additional angles maybe later today, yet another piece of her work.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Poetry for Your Mood
The Guardian has a fun test that will provide you with a poem suitable for your mood. Go here and take it. I did, the results follow:
You're experiencing a bit of an existential crisis, aren't you? Here's a poem to help you through your long dark night of the soul.
Eel-grass
No matter what I say,
All that I really love Is the rain that flattens on the bay,
And the eel-grass in the cove;
The jingle-shells that lie on the beach
At the tide-line, and the trace
Of higher tides along the beach:
Nothing in this place.
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 - 1950)
You're experiencing a bit of an existential crisis, aren't you? Here's a poem to help you through your long dark night of the soul.
Eel-grass
No matter what I say,
All that I really love Is the rain that flattens on the bay,
And the eel-grass in the cove;
The jingle-shells that lie on the beach
At the tide-line, and the trace
Of higher tides along the beach:
Nothing in this place.
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 - 1950)
Friday, November 05, 2004
From "Exposure"
An excerpt from a new poem tonight - titled EXPOSURE
A short sleeve shirt
in true to life
form, is a flirt.
Chew on this one a bit....
"A man does not get old because he nears death; a man gets old because he can no longer see the false from the good."
-Charles Bukowski
Wow... I'm not even going to tell you what is going through my mind as I think about this Bukowski quote, but I am seeing a lot of red.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)