Mud Pies and Bones: Writing and Art
- Monument, Colorado, United States
- December 20
- The Cleaner
- I am a published poet and exhibited artist living in the shadow of the small, but lovely Mount Herman, a part of the majesty of the Rocky Mountains. I raise children, tend gardens, cook, write, clean, sculpt, read.....................................................................................
MY RECENT POSTS
December 01, 2013 09:27AM
- Adventures in Art - Learning
Light and Dark
November 18, 2013 03:11PM
- Santa Fe, The Bone and the
November 04, 2013 04:55PM
- Learning my Balance - When to
October 08, 2013 12:27PM
- Save Them All
October 07, 2013 11:59AM
MY RECENT COMMENTS
- “I love much of Borges'
poetry, especially his
December 01, 2013 10:12AM
- “This is so beautifully
written. I admit to never
Sound of Music; it
December 01, 2013 10:00AM
- “Your food looks really
December 01, 2013 09:47AM
- “I found this inspiring.
I've lost thirty pounds
exercise. If I had
December 01, 2013 09:46AM
- “Thanks Just Phyllis.
Comments are supposed to be
December 01, 2013 09:26AM
Lucy Simpson's Links
The Rockies are a forbidding place of boulders, wrinkled as elephant skin, but motionless. Something seemingly intractable resides here in this landscape.
Yet, the water of the Tarryall river is flowing, speckled by light. Snow has fallen on a dry… Read full post »
A spent yucca bloom holds shining black seeds. The seeds wait to be blown or knocked out, to find soil and water.
Moon in its cradle of pine boughs - that color of blue tinged gold and purple. There is a music with this shade. Dusk is a sad-sweet… Read full post »
Anywhere is beautiful and what looks dry and dead, isn't necessarily as it seems. Looking closely with my camera has shown me this. Everytime I get depressed about being in an arid, somewhat dull environment, I head out with my camera and see what is beautiful. The camera has taught… Read full post »
In my youth, we went to China Gardens once a month, an
unremarkable Chinese food restaurant in the city where I grew
up. My earliest favorite was sweet and sour
pork, because it was like a cake-battered
dessert. Plus that orange color delighted the
In the eighties, like… Read full post »
It is spring and we are losing our house after a long and painful struggle to hold onto this frayed American dream. I walk past the neighbor’s yard with its calla lilies like withered brides and down past my friend’s house with its deep blue… Read full post »
flowers look wounded
Every year, spring felt like the greatest insult to me, as if the sun was shining too brightly on all my imperfections. It was harder to hide in doors, harder to cover my body in bulky coats. The very brightness of the flowers… Read full post »