Wednesday, December 02, 2015

Stepping into Fall

Another painting from our show with the poem, " We Walk," written by Scott Aycock
 


WE WALK


We are on retreat—
a cabin in the woods.

Leaving behind cell phones, and computers—
we walk.

The path is wide, clearly marked—
no getting lost.

We feel at ease on this unfamiliar path,
whereas, back home, in the city
familiarity seeds boredom,
and yes, sometimes resignation.
Trodden paths turn to ruts,
roots are exposed,
like fingers pointing.
We are lost.

For now, though,
in tandem,
we walk.
me in front
and then pausing
to observe a mushroom,
or catch my breath,
she will take the lead. 

Out here, cooperation, not competition,
Rules the day.
I offer a hand crossing a creek,
and stopping to rest,
she offers me water and a smile.

Still we are cautious, but curious.
New trails are like that,
only a hint of what lies ahead.
We walk.

It is mid-September and already,
the sun sits lower in the sky.
Slant light is warm, almost hot,
as the trail steers us into one of the many grassy clearings.





On this high plane
we walk
among blue stem, cacti, and crimson-crowned sumac.

The path gives way and dips into deep shadows.

I stop before wading into
                Pine—
                                Oak—
                                                Juniper.
She steps beside me,
her arm brushes mine.

Standing there, she whispers,
“can you feel it?  It’s like leaving summer and walking into fall.”

True, the heat gives way abruptly,
cool moist air rushes up the descending path.
Stepping under the canopy
there is a hushed silence.
Instinctively, I reach for her hand and
we walk.

SOLD! Peonies


Snakes Painting by me.... Poem by Scott

My husband, Scott and I recently had a month long show at a local gallery.  My husband is a poet, and I, of course, the painter.  Each painting had a corresponding poem.  This one had a great poem about a little boy falling asleep on a hot Sunday at church.    To visit my ebay gallery, click the link to gallery.
Gallery


SNAKES
                                                                                                                                                               

Sunday mornings
Southern Baptists
Summer heat
All those “S’s” hissing!

In the garden, preacher warned,
“Snakes will lull you to sleep.”

My head in grandmother’s lap

Twirling fans,
suspended from the ceiling.
Never pushing air enough…
sweating
                hearing voice,
not words…
                rising, falling
                    rising, falling.

The stroke of her fingers
tongue at my neck
in my ear
Hissing!

Preacher’s voice
distant and hollow
    as though listening underwater,                                          
to a voice calling
                softly, tenderly
                   rising, falling
                hissing in my ear
sleep. . . sleep. . .  ssssssss . . . .
 



Snakes by Margaret Aycock oil on canvas

My husband, Scott and I recently had a month long show at a local gallery.  My husband is a poet, and I, of course, the painter.  Each painting had a corresponding poem.  This one had a great poem about a little boy falling asleep on a hot Sunday at church.  To read the poem feel free to click the link to my blog.  To visit my ebay gallery, click the link to gallery.
Blog
Gallery


Monday, November 16, 2015

Aycock House Holiday Sale


Pics from last year's show at the house... Fun!  You are invited!  Bring a friend .  This Saturday November 21 9-5   1135 N Denver, Tulsa







Penny sale on 2 paintings


I have a little 6x6 portrait and 6x6 painting of garlic ( Scott Aycock) starting at a penny on my ebay auction.  Click here to visit

Sunday, November 15, 2015

French Convent Guest House

My heart sank as we listened to the news out of Paris and I remembered back to a couple of years ago when we stayed at a French convent in Provence where a friend resides as one of the sisters there and was celebrating her jubilee year.  I also remember fondly hanging out with two young Parisian soccer players who were our air bnb guests last year.  We were all snowed in here as were 3 musicians who couldn't travel due to the weather.  A bottle of wine, a great meal cobbled together made for an excellent, memorable evening.  I am pulling out some paintings from those times and putting them out in my ebay gallery.  This one here is the house where we stayed in Provence.
To visit my ebay gallery


Saturday, November 14, 2015

$10 off each $100 in my Ebay Gallery

Please feel free to use this coupon when shopping in my Ebay Gallery.  This coupon is good for any purchase or purchases.
$10 off each $100

Friday, November 13, 2015

SOLD! Red Ryder Rifle from the book, " In Tandem"

I wanted to paint this response to one of my favorite poems as if it were like an icon.   I hoped to reflect the things a child holds dear.


RED RYDER RIFLE





I remember the day my brother

put down his Red Ryder Rifle.

“I’m too big for kid games,” he said.



He stood, ducking his head,

exiting the door to our fort.



I pleaded, “Don’t go,”

but my brother was through the door.

Then taunted,

“what’s the matter- too big to play with me now?”

The voice of a child could not bring him back.



For my brother it was no longer a choice.

He shook off his childhood

as though the fit weren’t right.



I watched as he strode ‘cross uncle’s pasture toward giggling girls

huddled at the gate,

speaking in whispers I could not understand.

My brother understood.



He walked stiffly,

his creased jeans barely breaking line.

It occurred to me, he walked like my father.



The door closed.

For a moment I was sad,

and then I remembered the Red Ryder Rifle.



In Tandem Sunday Morning.... and Snakes

Scott and I had a fantastic opening of our show and now that things have settled down a bit I can share a few of the pieces with you.  Here are a few that are in the book, " In Tandem," which is available for purchase with free shipping withing the USA.

SNAKES
                                                                                                                                                               

Sunday mornings
Southern Baptists
Summer heat
All those “S’s” hissing!

In the garden, preacher warned,
“Snakes will lull you to sleep.”

My head in grandmother’s lap

Twirling fans,
suspended from the ceiling.
Never pushing air enough…
sweating
                hearing voice,
not words…
                rising, falling
                    rising, falling.

The stroke of her fingers
tongue at my neck
in my ear
Hissing!

Preacher’s voice
distant and hollow
    as though listening underwater,                                          
to a voice calling
                softly, tenderly
                   rising, falling
                hissing in my ear
sleep. . . sleep. . .  ssssssss . . . .

Tuesday, November 03, 2015

First Friday opening looks great!

The first couple of paintings are hung...