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  1. House Jack Built

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia)
    THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT

    This is the creepy old house that Jack built.

    This is the doorway where the Gargoyle glowers upon the wall of the creepy old house that Jack built.

    This is the hallway filled with moans, that leads up to the doorway where the Gargoyle glowers upon the wall of the creepy old house that Jack built.

    This is the stairway damp and cold, that leads up to the hallway filled with moans, that leads up to the doorway where ...
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  2. Self-Portrait

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia)
    Self-Portrait

    Charcoal pencil is used to sketch the outlines
    Of the points of central focus in the painting
    I am designing. The pencil moves quickly, creating shadows.
    I leave the paper white in areas I intend to highlight
    As the work progresses. Slowly, surely the picture gains definition.
    I love abstract surrealism! It makes the viewer decide.

    Blush is best for the first gentle wash, before I decide
    More fully on the colors ...
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  3. POE

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia)


    POE

    The waves wash upon some forgotten shore,
    The wind sighs softly among the gnarled trees.
    Somewhere a dark bird croaks “Nevermore,”

    From his perch upon a bust of Pallas above the chamber door.
    The dark clouds split and the heavens bleed.
    The waves wash upon some forgotten shore,

    As a wild-eyed man searches for his lost Lenore,
    Calling out; desperately expressing his needs!
    Somewhere a dark bird
    ...
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  4. returning

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Imported Poems)
    off to the side-
    was he really there?-
    i see a man he looks
    like me
    this child blinks, laughs
    with my eyes
    around the corner
    women lunch
    storekeepers *****
    and gossip
    cats yowl and dogs
    hump their owners legs
    because they
    want to play frisbee
    in the park
    there's a war
    in the next street
    and a wedding tomorrow
    i visit gettysburg clad in
    cold wind, ...
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  5. (no title)

    by , 11-02-2006 at 05:41 PM (Imported Poems)
    There are few of us who
    are here to remain.
    You are not one of them.
    Do not feel sad.
    Do not feel glad.
    Just listen to us.
    Do not act.
    You are not meant to.
    You are not supossed to speak.

    Because you are a slave to our screams. Do hear them.
    Now, how does it feel?
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