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A bewildered visitor to the Taverna asked me to show her the location of Lemuria on a map. I could do nothing more than point to the map on the wall and ask my fellow patrons, where in the world is Lemuria? When you have an answer, let us know……. — Lori
“Where is the World is Lemuria?”
Lori Gloyd (c) 2007
Digital Construction
My gargoyle gallery, just having a bit of fun with images of my gargoyles on the balcony. You can make your own gallery images at dumpr.net if you have a flickr
“Thinking Pete”
“Ernest Gazing”
The spirit finally just took possession of me last night, must be the magic of Mayday, and I painted furiously between eleven and three in the morning. I am not unhappy with the work so far, and I am ecstatic to have finally painted again. hanks to all of you who’ve expressed your confidence in me that I would paint again, those little nudges go a long way to keeping me on track. For those four hours I felt no pain, no miseries of any kind, it was wonderful.
aletta
The Little Joys in Life
Of the many photos.. I’ve taken the last couple of weeks this has to be my personal favourite. I was in the car, the back seat between my grandson and his playmate. Wedged between baby seats, but what a place to photograph little kids. The sun playing thought the windows started Monty on a sneeze and I just managed to grab him in the middle of it.
On a more whimsical note this photos of my Gargoyle “Ernest” bathing and having altogether too much fun.
I set out to draw but ended up finding the background was the picture.
Hidden
within her handiwork
Babushka lives
longing for her children
remembering
their shaping
May you be blessed
in this season and all seasons
Here’s a picture I took recently of a raku pot I made two years ago and part of our bone collection. We live near fields and woods and are regularly visited by foxes, raccoons, deer and ‘possums. Sometimes they leave their bones behind and we collect them, if we can get to them before they’re eaten. I made this pot with the thought in mind of keeping part of our bone collection in it and that’s why I designed it with the bone shapes on the outside. I believe the skull is from a deer. We love bones and I would dearly love to have a human skull. I mean other than the one that’s inside my head.
A mystery ship on a misty tide
floats silent, its passengers sleeping
waiting for a signal
from an empty window
Poet
aged and lonely
riding gently over the sea
The ferry woman dips
her paddle
singing the song
the song of her fathers
westerly, westerly
we go to the Island
where your beloved
is waiting for thee
Fran
It’s been too cold to walk for more than a week. Today it was above freezing, and right around sunset, I headed out. The moon was two days past new, and tilted in that winter’s way. Venus was below, bright and big, as if it had rolled out of the moon cup. (c) Quinn McDonald , 2007 
Satin Flower ferry woman
hastens to the jetty
fearing lest the whirlwind
damage her vessel
A fragile word maker
awaits her coming
Fran
The ferry woman waits
aboard her ladyslipper boat
“Please step with care
and don’t forget to bring your silver pen
for the Muse of the Island
has lost hers.”
On Dream Island where the muse
rests silent
the parrot watches over her
waiting for dawn
and the coming of the poet
but the ferry sits unused upon the further shore
My impatient muse waved farewell and sailed to her island retreat where she plays and waits for the ferry women to bring any candidates for her services. That lazy lady swings in a hammock quite unsympathetic to my distant messages, refuses to read emails, won’t answer thought waving, and, as for snail mail, refuses to give out her address. I’ll have to call in the chief ferry woman and make my way over the sea.
cronelogical
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