Private Moment #75 “The Awakening”

private moments in paintings & poetryPrivate Moments #75: “The Awakening”
Poem Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post 18th August 2014
Poem for Private Writings: Chapter #75
“If I Fell In Love With You Would You Leave Me Too?”
Painting “Coming Back To Life” 
by Jk McCormack

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~ (1563-1631)

coming back to life by jk mccormack (c) jkm 2014

Coming Back To Life  Jk McCormack (c) jkm 2008

hands reaching out into rain

“The Awakening” Haiku
By Madison Taylor
10th February 2009

Angels clearing clouds
Blue bleeds out in naked sky
Lights glowing in white

Dancing rainbow hues
Dream in golden consciousness
Depths of awareness

Float up greet freedom
Liberate the flow smoothly
Enter in to life

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini - Composer Rachmaninoff – Pianist Maksim Mrvica

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”

— Jkm the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

red-heart-for mj ghost 1

* * * * * * *

Private Moments #74 “Abandonment”

private moments in paintings & poetryPrivate Moments #74 “Abandonment”
Poem Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post 11th August 2014

Poem for Private Writings: Chapter #74
“The Return to Awareness”
Painting
“Far Away” by Jk McCormack
 

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~ (1563-1631)

far away by jkmccormack (c) jkm 2014 neg

Far Away   jkmccormack (c) jkm 2008

hands reaching out into rain

“Abandonment” Haiku
By Madison Taylor
3rd February 2009

abandonment wounds
cutting out contact no words
stabs deep in the heart

ripping tissues red
corrupting sight blinding words
what was never was

fantasies crumble
beliefs shatter in pieces
ending accomplished

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini - Composer Rachmaninoff – Pianist Maksim Mrvica

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”

— Jkm the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

red-heart-for mj ghost 1

* * * * * * *

Private Moments #72 “Are There Rules?”

private moments in paintings & poetryPrivate Moments #72: “Are There Rules?”
Poem Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post 28th July 2014

Poem for Private Writings: Chapter #72 “Waiting on Death”
Tears and Raindrops by Jk McCormack
 

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~ (1563-1631)

tears and raindrops by jkmccormack (c) jkm 2014

“Tears and Raindrops”   jkmccormack (c) jkm 2008

hands reaching out into rain

Are There Rules?”
By Madison Taylor
20th January 2009

Are there rules for life?
Are there rules for love?

Are there rules for death?
Are there rules from above?

Are there rules for Heaven?
Are there rules for Hell?

Do we create the rules
That govern if we do well?

Rules in effect tell us
What the perfect path will be

Are they restricting
Who we might become?

What about creativity
Will Serendipity be gone?

Is the new world order
Removing one by one

The Freedoms in our life
At the end of a gun?

Directing revolutions
Their exploitations seem to thrive

Some of us will be lucky
To get out of life alive…

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini - Composer Rachmaninoff – Pianist Maksim Mrvica

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”

— Jkm the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

red-heart-for mj ghost 1

* * * * * * *

Private Moments #68 – “Me Loving You”

private moments in paintings & poetryPrivate Moments #68
Poem “Me Loving You”
by Jennifer Kiley
Poem for Private Writings: Chapter #68
“Loving You Loving Me”
Painting “Somewhere Inside a Rainbow”
by Jk McCormack
Post Monday 30th June 2014

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~ (1563-1631)

hearts-touching by jk mccormack (c) jkm 2014

Somewhere Inside a Rainbow – Jk McCormack (c) jkm 2008

hands reaching out into rain

“Me Loving You”
By Madison Taylor
23rd December 2008

Me
Loving you?
How does the love
Get through?

We are separate
In ideas & feelings
Understanding life
What gives us meaning

We are different
Not enough noticing
Just how much
Holds between us

It pulls us together
The truth in our words
Now silence
Falls beneath us

My hand reaches out
Touches drift away

My Love has chosen
It’s offered freely
Waiting for acceptance
Instead you walk away

Not knowing
Who stands before you
Could it be your Soul Mate
Secret Dreams called to life

I am
Finished wanting
I’m ending it
Inside a Proposition

Will you
Let me love you?

Maybe you
will love me?

Someday
Sometime
Somewhere
Too

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

“Making Love Out of Nothing At All” - Air Supply

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”

— jkm the secret keeper
aka J Kiley McCormack
aka Jennifer Kiley

red heart outline with pale blue bg

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

“On the Pulse of the Morning”

poetry out loud - day title saturday

“On the Pulse of the Morning”

Poem Written by Maya Angelou

Post Created by Jennifer Kiley

Post Saturday 31st May 2014


Maya Angelou -“On the Pulse of the Morning”

“On the Pulse of the Morning”
Written by Maya Angelou
Spoken at President Clinton’s
First Inauguration 1993

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no more hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,

Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.

The River sings and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.

Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.

Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.

Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveler, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers- desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot…
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours- your Passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.

Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.

Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes, into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

- Maya Angelou -

maya angelou insightful

MAYA ANGELOU
1928 – 2014
R.I.P.

* * * * * * *

Private Moments #63: “Pushing the Limits”

private moments in paintings & poetry
Private Moments #: “Pushing the Limits”

Poem Written for Private Writings: Chapter #63 - “I Forgot To Remember”
“Pushing the Limits” by Jennifer Kiley

Post Monday 26th May 2014

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~ (1563-1631)

shadowspeak by jkmccormack (c) JkM 2013

“shadowspeak” - jk mccormack (c) jkm 2008

hands reaching out into rain

“Pushing the Limits”
By Madison Taylor/jkm
18th November 2008

Want to see how far
I can push the limits
to my honesty…

It’s necessary for me
to open up this door
with steel bolted lock cutters.

No one was allowed
in that special room
but me.
I kept all the real secrets
hidden there.

I knew when I was there,
I felt my deep love
for someone
who was also a girl
that felt the way
I did.

No man’s hand
on me
ever felt good
except once

an abuser
did something
to my body
I hadn’t expected.

Reason was
I never knew
such a feeling
existed.

That day
he stole away
my innocence.
The best feelings
a woman or young girl
can ever experience

and an abuser
possesses it
now.

He has taken it
and locked it away
in his unimaginative mind.

I fantasized many times
how I would seek
my revenge on him
and steal
my innocence back.

I was going
to stalk him
the way he did me
and the animals
he hunted
and killed

I wanted to turn
that around on him
and stalk him
making him
the hunted
and I would be
the hunter
who took him down.

It was
a repetitious fantasy.
I have never
forgotten a moment
of seeing him
inside my head
the satisfaction I felt
imagining
taking him out
from this world

Far away
from harming me further
or harming anyone else ever.

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Every Breath You Take - Police w/ Sting
[Sarcastically It Is Perfect for the real stalkers out there]

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”

— Jkm the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

*        *       *       *       *       *      *

REMEMBER

DO WHAT YOU LOVE

Private Moments #49: Too High On Love

private moments in paintings & poetry
Too High On Love
Private Moments #49
Poem by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Post Created 7th February 2014
Posted On Monday 17th February 2014
PRIVATE MOMENTS: PAINTINGS & POETRY

Private Writings: Chapter #49 — Got To Get You Into My Life

'safely dangerous' by madison taylor (c) mtaylor 2008

‘Safely Dangerous’ by Madison Taylor (c) MTaylor 2008

hands reaching out into rain

Too High On Love
by Madison Taylor
8th July 2008

Too high on love
Go smashing
Feel the pounding

Trusting hearts
Drawing closer
Time expanding

Arms covering
Warmth spiraling
Blood arousing

Bodies combining
Spirits crying
High waves surging

Minds touching
Mouths whispering
Fires smoldering

Out of minds
Fantasies flying
Not disturbing

Curiosity soaring
Censors flat-lining
Eliminates controlling

Flesh melting
Skin glowing
Bliss achieving

Too high on love
Climb higher
Depths are expanding

Awaiting the closing

© MTaylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Maze

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

* * * * * * *

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”
— JkM the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

* * * * * * *

I Believe

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
I Believe
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Created 11th January 2014
Posted Saturday 11th January 2014
POETRY IN TONE

I Believe
By Jennifer Kiley
11th January 2014

I believe.
I believe in you.
I believe in art.
I believe in love.
I believe in imagination.
I don’t so much believe in reality.

I am more into fantasy.
What one imagines
Becomes real.

Yet,
Isn’t imagination
Something we create
From out of our dreams
And fantasies?

You are real
But also feel
Like the best part
Of my imagi-nation.

You give me
Such gifts
In your words.
Stating their reality.

If all becomes
A dream,
One after the other,
Or always
Was a dream,
And we continue on
Through our dream world.

Who decides
When to
Change it?

Loving to create.
Imagining something tangible
In my mind
And placing it
Before me.

Trusting others
To share it.
To be kind.

Trusting myself
To know
When it is complete,
Or when it is time again

Something new
Might be created.
The creating is
Not known
Until complete

And even then
May continue on
Into a new form.

Creating.
Knowing
When the time
Is now.

Keeping
The sense of the real
Alive
And
Remembered.

The fine line
Ravels on
Its own.

I think the pain
We feel
Are memories
Of being opened up
To waking nightmares.

To torturers
Who find
A weakness
In the flesh
And leave
A lasting
Memory.

One
Of those
Memories
That last too long
Beyond forever.

The side that feeds
Creativity,
Is the Muse,
Who becomes
The filter,
Deciphering
What to let through
And at what place
In time
For something
To be revealed.

In your own
Special way,
You have helped
Giving guidance
Touching down into
A safe landing.

The veil
Is being lifted
The sight
Of a vision
Streaming
Through the mesh

When it finds
A receptive being
To listen,
Hear, see,
Absorb, interpret,
Recreate in their own vision
And express it freely,
As it wants to appear.

It guides us
Somewhere
Within the mind.

Sleep is calling.
In sleep
We meet many
New things,
New happenings.
Ways of communicating
Within states of mind
Not in our control.

When asleep,
Don’t we give away
Our control?

Trust sleep?
Trusting sleep,
Is that safe?

What does
Sleep do
To any of us?

Do we know
Where we go
And can anything
We dream
Take us away
From our life?

A curious response.
Will read after I wake up.
Love to know what I write
After I am awake again.

© JkM 2014

love leaning - artist jk mccormack (c) JkM 2014

Love’s Ripple Dreaming – Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2014

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day

poetry out loud - day title saturday
Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day
Shakespeare – Sonnet XVIII
Video Discovered by j. kiley
Post Created on Saturday 16th November 2013
Posted On Saturday 23rd November
Happy Birthday Gran Emily 133 yrs b. 23rd November 1880
POETRY OUT LOUD

Sonnet XVIII – Shakespeare – Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day

SONNET XVIII

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Blooming Blue Flowers for Emily with Love

Blooming Blue Flowers for Emily with Love Jk

Poetry Out Loud: Funeral Blues — Four Weddings & a Funeral

poetry out loud - day title saturday
Funeral Blues
W.H. Auden
from: Four Weddings and a Funeral
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Post Created on Saturday 2nd November 2013
Posted On Saturday 9th November 2013
Poetry Out Loud

Funeral Blues – W.H. Auden – Four Weddings & a Funeral

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

© W H Auden. All rights reserved
No Copyright Infringement Intended