The Days Between Rain

The days between rain and intermittent deluges are increasing in duration.
My garden is thirsty, the palette is dry.
I cried you a river filled with sorrows, and was healed by the joyful release.

© 2017, Theresa Mae Funk. All rights reserved.

While You Were Away: Passing Shots of Georgia

While you were away, I traveled to Atlanta, Athens, Appling, and then home again by plane.

Athens Garden Mural
I snapped a passing shot of A mural in Athens, Georgia for you, and call it Untitled, painted by an artist un-named. A bride and groom were married later the same day.

Tall pines and the lush greenery of the landscape was my daily meditation on humidity.

I read pages from Basquiat’s Unknown Notebooks at the High Museum of Art in my own Neoexpressionist style, then hatch-marked my heart to Vik Muniz’s sleeve.

Passing Shot Vik Muniz May 11 2016

 

© 2016.  Theresa Mae Funk, all rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

A Flower for Sylvia Plath

Rain Drenched Tulip

      The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
(Excerpt from the poem Tulips by Sylvia Plath )

This rain drenched tulip winters in the garden’s row of spinach and chard.

© 2016, Theresa Mae Funk.  All rights reserved.

 

Poppy Cocked for Spring in California

Passing Shot Rocklin

The astronomical winter in North America ends on March 19th, but I’m already feeling poppy-cocked to see California’s state flower adorn our green spaces in spring.

© 2016, Theresa Mae Funk. All rights reserved.

 

Passing Shots: Folsom Lake

Located about twenty five miles northeast of Sacramento is what remains of Folsom Lake.

Folsom Lake

Walking through the stark landscape of what was once the reservoir’s lake bed saddened me, but also inspired me to spend time this week studying color theory.

What will be the formula that re-creates these shades of blue for my next work on paper?

Folsom Lake 2

Folsom Lake 3

© 2015, Theresa Mae Funk. All rights reserved.

Poetry for Guitar: The Flightless Birds of the Livermore Yacht Club

Sparrows

In colorful silence on a nameless boathouse wall, flightless birds of the Livermore Yacht Club artfully display their tempered rigid wings.  Meanwhile, The Sparrows of Redhook, New York dream of flight in an endless sky, saving their voices for a reverberated cry of freedom.

Livermore birds

© 2015, Theresa Mae Funk.  All rights reserved.