I am grateful for the words of Jeanne Moreau
who one might consider a sage:
Age does not protect you from love…she wrote
But love
to some extent
protects you from old age
Healing is embracing what is most feared; healing is opening what has been closed, softening what has hardened into obstruction, healing is learning to trust life. — Jeanne Achterberg
We wandered lonely along the cowslip-lined lane.
The sky was overcast, though I hoped it would not rain.
Still, though apart, we walked and talked about life.
Our thoughts were heavy, for we understood all about strife.
Occasionally, we glanced at each other and smiled,
Each felt a sensation of wonder and delight, so beguiled.
Rain began to fall, and we dashed to a nearby shed, a cosy place.
Thunder boomed. We found ourselves in a stunning, sweet embrace.
Placed 1
I paint in series; same motif – haystacks, trees, cathedrals, water lilies.
normandy inspired many pencil sketches of sailing ships.
aunt Marie-Jeanne encouraged me; she was a generous painter.
boudin encouraged me to paint in open air, which was unheard of.
I worked with Renoir for a few months; we had similar tastes and canvases.
called them bad sketches, the beginning of the Impressionist period.
neverland called to me where I painted canals, boats, tulips and windmills.
I practiced drawing and painting an identical motif over and over.
best decision I ever made was to buy the marshlands across the road.
diverted the stream, creating a gorgeous new water lily garden.
weeping willows, iris and bamboo shot up, entertaining my paint brush.
meditated and painted there until I died at the happy age of eighty-six.
CRYSTAL SNOWFLAKES
Crystal snowflakes fill the air,
Floating here and lighting there -
Delicate and sparkling white,
Painting such an awesome sight.
Crystal snowflakes in the air,
Saving truth with all you share:
Jesus takes away our sin,
Leaves us snowy white within.
Crystal snowflakes fill the air,
Floating here and lighting there -
Come into my heart, O Lord,
Fill my life forevermore.
© 1981 Del Jeanne Mathews
My Love Song
I love my Savior, I love my Lord;
His name is Jesus, and by angels He’s adored.
I love the King of kings, Messiah, Lord of lords;
To Him my praise I bring—I love Him more and more.
I love the Shepherd Who calls me by my name;
He is the Prince of Peace, and in my heart He reigns.
Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God is He;
Everlasting Father, Who gave His life for me.
Jesus is the Door by which we enter in
To the Most Holy Place in heaven to be pardoned from our sin.
He is the Life, the Truth, and the Way;
His words are guiding through each and every day.
I love my Savior, I love my Lord;
His name is Jesus, and by angels He’s adored.
I love the King of kings, Messiah, Lord of lords;
To Him my praise I bring—I love Him more and more.
© 1995 Del Jeanne Mathews
Master Artist
Wayside flowers bloom
Clouds float in an azure sky
Our Creator’s art
© 09/07/22 Del Jeanne Mathews
I have so many crush everywhere
Palpable and inner beauties, seen and felt somewhere
Likeness of Hedy, Audrey, Soraya, Oona, Grace, Lucille, Jayne, Yvonne, Sophia, Debbie, Doris, Patti, Eydie, Skeeter, Brenda, Lesley, Holly, Sookie, Millie, Tammy, Sandy, Connie, Timi, Anne, Patsy, Claudia, Julie, Patti, Juice, Janie, Janis, Minnie/Andrea, Stacy, Shelley, Stevie, Laura, Carole, Mary, Melissa, Maureen, Patti, Agnetha, Anni-Frida, Randy C, Angela, Vesta, Deniece, Linda, Crystal, Teri, Whitney, Jane, Jacklyn, Morgan, Sondra, Sandra, Nadia, Olga, Kelly, Kim, Michelle, Debra, Geena, Ashley, Renee, Diana, Liza, Bette, Ann, Nancy, Keren W, Michael S, Chaka Khan, Isabella, Rebecca, Jeanne, Faith, Beverly, Alicia S, Alison, Leigh, Avril, Laura, Maryam, Izabella, Josie, Elena, Silvia... from East and West, I surely do.
From North and South are my classmates, friends...
and You!
Amedo Modigliani interpreter of neck&face
painted&sculpted with good grace
On his death wife Jeanne lost all hope
jumped from a window,for she could not cope
Modigliani had a unique style
simple & characterised without guile
an oval face and elongated neck *
peculiar & sans a reality check
*http://www.amedeomodigliani.net/portrait-of-jeanne-hebuterne/#:~:text=Portrait%20of%20Jeanne%20Hebuterne%20A%20Portrait%20of%20Jeanne,and%20also%20a%20painter%20in%20her%20own%20right.
Her story is one that needs to be told. Born in a poor family she was sent to work at a very young age. "Have you got any experience? asked Madame Jeanne she nodded then lied through her teeth," yes, of course, Qui " fifteen years of age and smart as a whip. She won 1st prize for an essay she wrote in school. Hiding her tears from her mom and dad, she soberly dropped out of school.
the poet's hands were tied
but her mind was not
she was determined
Late at night after a shower, lint free and bone tired she'd start working
on her novel. Here in this magical place of wander she was never scoffed nor told to put away her silly dreams.
an entity of hope
is a thing that floats
like a paper boat
One day she braved it and sent in her manuscript. The Editor knowing a
good thing when she saw it, gave Gloria her first chance. When she
received her very first check, she cried tears of joy.
all of this
because she believed ,
and never gave up
June 3, 2021
Sponsor Name: Kai Michael Neumann
Contest Name: The Poets Hands Are Tied
Happy birthday, Sister Jeanne March,
A cat catches mice every day;
This pet with his back that shows arch
Is just getting ready to play.
Topic: Birthday of Jeanne March Macayan (March 24)
As I awaken to a new day with contemplation
puzzle pieces scattered in misty confusion
this quiet of nature to nurture, replenish my faith
as the world spins wildly with our intrusion
In the stillness of the tangerine sunrise
I feel the turmoil and weight of many voices
ebb into the morning of flowering current
quiet the anxiety of rampant murmured choices
I’m the spell cast upon my desire’s open mouth
spawn the growth of dissent against your hate
smell the eruption, aghast against powerful eyes
in our actions comes the rules of all our fate
keep me calm in the swirl of the mighty dollar
as I scrub the yellow stain of your narrowed sight
hands raw, knees scraped, heart bleeding
though worse fate could soon be our dire plight
how can all be heard and healed of their fear
in your image they kill their innocence for glory
while I sit in this peace of your imminent truth
praying our chance comes to be a different story
copyright 2020 Jeanne McGee
Intro
Unable to get her to admit being a heretic
or committing any crime against God, she
told the truth to her inquisitors, she had
dressed as a man, to avoid detection by
enemy forces as she moved around France.
A crime apparently punishable by death in
those days. She also wore them to try avoid
being raped by her jailers after her death
sentence was passed.
saint jeanne d'arc
a terrible fate
to be burnt at the stake ~ boy
she wore the trousers
By
David Kavanagh
J-ust
E-njoy
A-nnual
N-atal
N-ote's
E-uphoric
M-essage
A-bout
R-emarkable
C-elebration
H-aving
M-ainly
A-ppreciated
C-omposition
A-bout
Y-our
A-wesome
N-ame
Topic: Birthday of Jeanne March Macayan (March 24)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
A Camera over Buckets
I hear the rolling thunder miles away
Feel the earth shake and the windows rattle
As waves crash to shore along the round bay
Wind howls as I stand ready to battle
Whatever crisis I have to straddle
The hurricane a mighty roar of rain
From the sky in a sheet of grey complain
And I with buckets to catch my roof leaks
To grab camera my preferred domain
Capture this day as nature loudly speaks
copyright 2020 Jeanne McGee
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.