sanguine artist

sanguine artist

Red roses

for you

I paint

a perfect red rose


deep passion

creative spirit

dramatic statement

yet contrary to

the symbolism

thorns are stronger

than your true love

sharp barbs

prick my fingers

drawing blood

to paint

a single imperfect

red rose

for I am

a sanguine artist

I paint with

blood and tears.

Inspired by mindlovemisery’s menagerie photo challenge #35, flowers in the snow for mindlovemisery’s menagerie.


what a fright!

Back on October 31st, Ellie Kellimore invited us to scare her with our “fright” write friday contributions.

It’s taken a while to find the skeletons in my closet, but I think that even Freddy Kruger would find these selfies scary!






member of the cult of the rusty cowl sweater pre-coffee rituals







member of the cult of the rusty cowl sweater post-coffee rituals


“they might be giants”*

I always knew I wasn’t quite like the other children. My parents would say, “Of course, you are! There are always little differences between children. Here have a cookie. Your favourite, monster dark chocolate chunk oatmeal.” But then they would say that; they’re parents.

It was more than the little things: I had autumn red hair; the others cornfield blond. I had green eyes; the others blue.

I seemed to be all arms and legs. The others more aware of their limbs and their uses. I was hopeless at sports, worse at dancing. Some days, could barely walk without tripping over my shoelaces or my feet.

I was alright in reading and writing. But math was way over my head. The others, bet you can guess by now – aced the arts and the sciences! I could draw, which was something, but seemed but a small talent compared to my school companions.

They were kind enough. They could have mocked me, belittled me, or pretended I was too small of skill and intellect to be bothered with. Not so much that they accepted me, as they didn’t unaccept me.

As summer break drew closer, I kept begging my parents to let me go on my own vacation that year. I had big plans. To away camp. To visit relatives. To be an exchange student. Anything!

My parents weren’t sure. I had never been away from home before; we always took a family vacation in the summer. But I kept at it, largely hoping they would relent just to shut me up. Finally . . .

“What do you want to do?” they asked.

“Visit relatives, I guess,” thinking that might be the most adventurous; a bigger slice of life.

So, on the first day of summer break, with my knapsack packed, teary-eyed farewells from my parents, and promises to stay in touch, I started to climb up the beanstalk.

Written for Fairytale Friday #34: Giant @ mindlovemisery’s menagerie

*title of a 1971 movie