This Is A Horse

This is a horse.
Oh yeah, I know it's not as well done as it should be.
But I was only doing a sketch wash and then messing about in India ink.
It's not perfect.
It's not supposed to be.
Art does not have to be perfect.
Art is about learning what art means to you,
What art does for you,
And what it can do for others.
Try your hand at it.
If you start criticizing yourself...you hit on something
How do you treat yourself in your mind every day.
We are often too hard on ourselves, mean to ourselves without knowing it.
Do a piece.
Try to draw
What does your inner voice say?
Working on a piece can help draw that out.
What do you say to yourself.
This art is just for you, your eyes only
Why the hell are you criticizing yourself.

This horse, this horse, you can still tell it's a horse, it's got the parts
But it does not look like it's real.
Well, I didn't use a photo reference
I went with my gut, my intuition
and besides.
I've seen art of animals where lines are curvy, wavy
Different colors
Tribal art where there is more circles or zig zags
So...there is no wrong way of doing a horse.
Julie Akeman
 

Featured Artists

Art by sycamorelullaby


Swing
By Corey Kneedler

She’s a ghost, a vapor burning in the playground’s bubble, trapped amongst the smiling faces, the optimistic glow that each one of them carries.
They all come from realms of stability, planes of a prosperous existence, while she swings up and down into highs and lows, crawling slowly through life as if she were still an infant.
Laughter echoes off the walls of this recreational dome, becoming a piercing shriek that enters the canals of her ears, reminding her of something she’ll never experience.
Behind her mask the tears flow freely. If only they could see. If only they could touch her face and feel the sorrows encapsulated in each and every tear.
Up and down she goes, wishing the chains would break off and she’d fly upward, away from here forever, to a place where she could finally remove her mask, breathe in the fresh air of hope, and dance in fields of jasmine under the warm rays of a comforting sun.
If only she could dream. If only such desires weren’t ripped from her by the poltergeists inside her haunted home.
One day the world will know the beauty she keeps inside. One day the world will know her name, will see her precious face, and they will finally speak her name.

Ghosts Of Home


I love to share Corey's poems.  Check out his website.  I try to help and share artists works and these two are on my top shares..check them out, they are really worth getting to know.

The Wolf

“The Wolf”
By Corey Kneedler

The ravenous wolf of time grows hungrier for us every day. Each passing day brings it closer, reminding of us of our inevitable mortality.
Plagued with frailty, weakness and the sting of decay, we press on through life’s barriers one by one.
Sometimes moving slowly forward through a sea of molasses we keep going, chasing after the dream of a better life, a new start, something real and fresh out that brings happiness to our souls.
And yet the wolf keeps chasing, hungrier and hungrier as each hour passes.
It’s a fate we can not seem to escape. The hour of devouring will soon be at hand. Meal time approaches, and the table is set.
Will we make it to the finish line? Will we one day bask in the rays of the warm sunlight, free from harm, pain and sorrow?
Come, wolf. Chase after me. Try and catch me if you can. Always pressing forward, I won’t let the foul smell of your breath defeat me. I won’t let your intimidating growls shake me. I won’t let your claws rip me to shreds when I am down.
I will keep pressing on, through the forest of thorns, over the rivers of sorrows, past the desolate landscapes of the lonely desert, and into the depths of the darkest seas.
And when I’ve made it home, one day I’ll look back on you with a fiery confidence in my eyes, and I’ll pull back my bow and fire an arrow into your skull. With a smile, I’ll say, “You couldn’t catch me. Now I’ve caught you.”
And then I’ll stand over your corpse and say, “Thank you for chasing after me all these years. If it wasn’t for you, I never would have made it this far.”

Follow the Ghosts

Artwork by Julie Akeman

Soul to Soul

SOUL TO SOUL

Peel back my layers

Speak gently

Listen deeply

Touch my heart

Before you touch my body

Let me bare my soul to you

All my pains

All my secrets

What is right and what is wrong with me

What I think is wrong

Let's spend some time

Opening up

To each other

Let's walk in the sun

In the moonlight

Under trees of falling leaves

Walk though crisp air

And sparkling snow

Our hands, connecting

As we talk of all 

Of ourselves

One night

I promise that one night

I will welcome that intimate closeness

Skin on Skin

Because we already spent time

Soul to Soul.

Julie Akeman

Reach Out

This is a powerful piece by Corey Kneedler   Please check up on your friends that are struggling  someone else shared on my Facebook that they lost a good friend to suicide after he was helping her get over her struggles.  Please reach out for help, and others please listen without judgement.




Reaching for Respite
by Corey Kneedler

In the early hours I wake, through the house I tiptoe, not a sound I make

Past the bedroom where the child lies, sleep little darling, don’t make a noise, not even a sigh.

Into the kitchen I flip on the light, searching for respite in the middle of the night.

Into the cabinet my fingers crawl, where are you my honey, my sweet fentanynl?

With the sound of a bottle’s rattle, I begin my nonsensical prattle.

“Mommy needs a little pick me up, before I start to throw up.”

With shaky hands I open the bottle, grab a tablet as my heart hits full throttle.

Sweat pours from my forehead and saturates my skin. My body quakes while the demon stirs within.

Pour a glass of water - is it just me, or is the room getting hotter?

Down the hatch, relief will soon be here at last.

Fall to the kitchen floor, take a deep breath. How much longer before this causes my death?

Cold floor, restless night. I promise you that one day I’ll finally get it right.

“Mommy, what are you doing awake?”

“Honey, I....I just wanted to grab a bite of cake.”

“Can...I have some too?”

“...Sure, sweetheart. I’d love to share some cake with you.”

Her frown suddenly turns to a smile. She might as well enjoy her daughter’s company for a while.

Mother and daughter share a tasty treat so sweet, and hold each other tight in the middle of the night.

Mother realizes in this moment of late night bliss, life won’t always be like this. From now on, she’ll do everything she can to guard her. From now on, each day she’ll try a little bit harder.

And on that night hope returned to her broken heart. Life was reset and she found her new start.