tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-957722460006145892012-02-16T20:15:32.597-08:00Dianne's WordshopDianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.comBlogger331100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-28667410999976640962011-04-30T19:00:00.000-07:002011-04-30T19:00:41.775-07:00Haiku<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Fireflies escape burn</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">powdered ashes consume logs</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">singed willow whisps dance</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">-2-</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Pipeline to my heart</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">metal, plastic, neoprene</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">whitewashed impure waste</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">-3-</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Dusk fog steals daylight</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">invisible horizon</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">reveals secret thoughts</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">-4-</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The old woman spins</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">her loom of living spirits</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">weaves life's tapestry</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">-5-</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Megwitch spin magic</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">perfect petal profusion</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">tiger lily born</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">copyright: Dianne Tchir April 30,2011</span></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-2866741099997664096?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-34048388847436833402011-02-06T14:23:00.000-08:002011-02-11T21:52:52.549-08:00Mummifying Immortality~After Death<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Head Stones, Slugs & Wordspirits</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">darkness consumes all that invades below</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> <strong><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Above</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>the wordspirits wrestle weather</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">blown to other worlds</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">Graves take space</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">encroach on nature's natural decay</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">Entombed bodies mummified </span></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Immortality </strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>we believe</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">copyright: D.M. Tchir Feb.6/2011</span></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-3404838884743683340?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-17336078088532698722011-01-25T19:47:00.000-08:002011-01-25T19:47:48.745-08:00Vol.II THE CIRCLE OF LIVING<div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Survival is cave art</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">today i am the hunter</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">ravens circle where warm</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">remains fill the air with </span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the fresh smell of blood</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">Hot blades of sunshine dice </span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">dying fields of gold</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">i crawl in camo on my belly</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">face the cool earth</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">breathe in the west wind</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">worm under the barbwire fence</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">The piercing bullet</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">made with precision is</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">loaded into the rifle</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">set on to a tripod</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">i sit legs outstretched</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">on the cold earth &</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">take aim with safety off</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">i see the whitetail in</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the crosshairs</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">breathe deeply in & fully exhale out</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">squeeze the trigger</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">The deer's legs fold</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">at her knees</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">bone shatters, splits</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">dark red blood streaks</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">over muscle/meat</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">interconnecting me</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">ice rasps down my spine</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">thin membranes of memories split</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">scatter to bits</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">i straighten up</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">we walk to tag the deer~meat</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the field is void of feelings</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">i am an omnivore</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">We skin, cut and wrap</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">grind to make burger</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the fresh meat becomes</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">tonight's chilli</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">Coyote & wolves</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">ravens & magpies will share</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">this circle of living</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">copyright: Dianne Tchir December 30,2010</span></strong></div><a name='more'></a><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-1733607808853269872?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-53567321707969390972011-01-25T19:34:00.000-08:002011-01-25T19:34:53.354-08:00POEM FROM UPCOMING VOL.II THE MORTAL COIL<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We entwine meaningful moments</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">pay our dues to claim</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">bird,tree & sky</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">We live together &</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">apart forever</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">the very sight of you</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">means loss to me</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Anticipation becomes</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">silent tears as you </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">hold my cheeks in</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">your strong hands</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">A kiss is locked in time</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">like the words...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">i love you...i love you</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">unable to let go</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">i cannot breathe as</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">i leave the echoes </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">of your room</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">copyright:Dianne Tchir Dec.30,2010</span></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-5356732170796939097?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-82152551012744846222010-11-11T08:10:00.000-08:002010-11-14T11:18:21.654-08:00LIMITED EDITIONS PRESS™'s Profile my new poetry book<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/New-York-NY/LIMITED-EDITIONS-PRESSTM/248407959565">LIMITED EDITIONS PRESS™'s Profile</a> THE RHYTHMIC CYCLE -http//dianne.limitededitionspress.com<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-8215255101274484622?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-63174136711210100092010-11-08T14:06:00.000-08:002010-11-08T14:06:16.152-08:00THE SHADOWS OF DEATH<div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">When we walk with</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">wooden legs &</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">have no arms to</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">hold each other &</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">our flesh burns</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Are we brothers</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">of war?</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Inside my head, the blast raises</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">blood hot clouds</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">children shriek</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">entombed in their beds</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i hide with war</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">that takes no limbs but</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">cuts as paper to my flesh</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">a lethal holocaust</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i fear these long fingers</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">executing and extinguishing </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">LIFE</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i silently listen for</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">the pulse of peace</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">copyright: Dianne Tchir from THE RYTHMIC CYCLE</span></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-6317413671121010009?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-19006004536896749592010-10-23T21:59:00.000-07:002010-10-23T21:59:37.885-07:00Facebook (67) | THE TURNING POINT- CONTINUED<a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/note.php?note_id=137703076260868">Facebook (67) THE TURNING POINT- CONTINUED</a>: "THE TURNING POINT- CONTINUED<br />by Dianne Tchir on Saturday, July 24, 2010 at 10:01pm <br /><br />later/now split tongues language<br />formulae, classification,legitimation<br />magical boxes spin, dissect, divorce<br />misfit parts from wholes to isolate<br />& synchronize language with<br />space/time<br />copyrighted: D.M.Tchir July 25,2010"<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-1900600453689674959?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-5229205000722211812010-10-23T21:53:00.000-07:002010-10-23T21:56:06.499-07:00Facebook (67) | The Turning Point<a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/note.php?note_id=137701289594380">Facebook (67) The Turning Point</a>: "The Turning Point<br />by Dianne Tchir on Sunday, August 29, 2010 at 2:50pm <br /> i search word strings<br />images of my historicity<br />texts reveal yesteryears'<br />fathers of theology/science<br />philosophy/REALITY<br />mothers' silent tongues<br />curled back inside<br />stringing life's journey<br /><br />in retrospect, a child is born<br />into a world already named<br />i mused my world, being~<br />seeing seasons yoke to cycles<br />of life~death ~rebirth<br />i wanted to know mother<br />nature's secrets<br />continued<br />copyright: Dianne M. Tchir<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-522920500072221181?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-35426594523589743612010-10-23T21:47:00.000-07:002010-10-23T21:47:02.083-07:00Facebook (67) | My Notes<a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/home.php?sk=mynotes">Facebook (67) My Notes</a>: "haiku<br />By Dianne Tchir · Sunday, August 29, 2010<br />misty waters flow<br />dew licks quiet grassy fields<br />sun salutations<br /><br />lady butterfly<br />perfumes lilac spring morning<br />settles on the slough<br /><br />the down pouring sheets<br />cover my naked window<br />my heart fibrillates<br /><br />copyright: Dianne Tchir<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-3542659452358974361?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-16584659888378306872010-10-23T21:42:00.000-07:002010-10-23T21:43:21.502-07:00Facebook (67) | Timeless Beauty<a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/note.php?note_id=138185716212604">Facebook (67) Timeless Beauty</a>: "Timeless Beauty<br />by Dianne Tchir on Monday, July 26, 2010 at 11:27pm There is a timeless beauty in death<br />Splashes of gold and red weave<br />between lone pines that<br />stand untouched by frigid evening frost.<br /><br />A full moon finds its reflection<br />bouncing beams across the glassy lake<br />crisp, cool yesterday whips white caps<br />shatters glass droplets that<br />crawl like stunned flies<br /><br />The icy gusting wind grips gold and red<br />leaving poplar trees shivering<br />standing naked among the lone pines.<br />copyright: D.M. Tchir July26,2010"<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-1658465988837830687?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-80277774224758879792010-10-23T21:38:00.000-07:002010-10-23T21:38:17.385-07:00Facebook (67) | Haiku<a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/note.php?note_id=140098426021333">Facebook (67) Haiku</a>: "Haiku<br />by Dianne Tchir on Sunday, August 29, 2010 at 2:43pm<br /> soft flakes sparkle white<br />diamonds on tall pine tree boughs<br />I steal with my eyes<br /><br />golden sun rays flood<br />open fields of growing wheat<br />heads burst to feed people<br /><br />copyright: Dianne Tchir August 3,2010"<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-8027777422475887979?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-29164555643845279052010-10-23T21:32:00.000-07:002010-10-23T21:32:47.423-07:00Facebook (66) | Dance Me<a href="http://www.facebook.com/?sk=2347471856#!/note.php?note_id=140379429326566">Facebook (66) Dance Me</a>: "Dance Me<br />by Dianne Tchir on Sunday, August 29, 2010 at 2:54pm <br /> The music gyrates, the beat pulsates<br /> the pace and rhythm tingle<br /> i retreat to<br /> the starlit moonstruck sky<br /> my hips roll and sway<br />my arms stretch~branching upward<br /> fingers like feathers float in<br /> the warmspun night air<br /> my feet glide and leap on<br /> the cool covered grassy earth<br /><br />A thin veil of air separates bodies<br />the fragrant night intoxicates me as<br /> i grasp the handle<br />of the Big Dipper and drink<br /> my lips thirst for more<br />Celestial bodies in motion<br /> dance me<br /><br /><br />copyright: Dianne Tchir<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-2916455564384527905?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-23113379657378258722010-10-23T21:14:00.000-07:002010-10-23T21:14:49.339-07:00Facebook (66) | Magic Man<a href="http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=140555009309008">Facebook (66) Magic Man</a>: "Magic Man<br />by Dianne Tchir on Sunday, August 29, 2010 at 2:52pmMagic man<br />your altar is sustenance<br />the totem releases<br />a spirit of control<br />you beckon the winds,sky,<br />earth and water<br />filling your being with soul<br /><br />you celebrate life, death & rebirth<br />transcend your pain to find<br />self worth in childlike games<br />contracting your soul<br /><br />copyright: D.M.Tchir Aug.5, 2010<br />Comment ·LikeUnlike · Share"<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-2311337965737825872?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-70068499577728347192010-10-18T21:26:00.000-07:002010-10-18T21:26:55.327-07:00HAIKU<strong><em><span style="font-family: inherit;">fall tree colours blend</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em>coexist under one canvas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>synchronize life's concert</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>earth,sun, air, water</em></strong><br /><strong><em>divine cycle of victual</em></strong><br /><strong><em>cosmic mortal food</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>copyright: Dianne Tchir October 18,2010</em></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-7006849957772834719?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-11020715386772703232010-10-09T22:13:00.000-07:002010-10-09T22:13:55.623-07:00THE FOREST IS NEVER LOST<strong><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then, my children aged two years</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia;">stepped back in time</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia;">with visions of a holy place</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia;">the Escarpment was a sanctuary</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia;">caves became home &</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia;">adventures rose up</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia;">from the forest floor</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia;">They laid on cold rocky shelves</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia;">concealed by green soft spongy moss</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia;">then summer's forest canopy</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia;">was teased by FALL FROST &</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia;">blushed red & orange & gold</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia;">black moss betrayed barren rock</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">My children escaped to the caves</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">silence echoes their cries of the past</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">they are unable to grasp the holy place</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">Today we walk in the Fall Forest</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">My son with his daughters</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">feast on cranberries</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">i eat pine needles</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">Prana air fills our beings</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">many shades of green moss</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">conceal trunks and cold rock</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">My granddaughters are swept</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">from tree to tree as they play</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">forest children</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">Quietly, my son places</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">each on a shoulder &</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">climbs to the top of the hill</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">they listen to the solitude</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Georgia;">of this holy place..</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">copyright: Dianne Tchir October 9,2010</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-1102071538677270323?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-32847517622805354202010-09-25T12:01:00.000-07:002010-10-09T21:56:40.252-07:00Corpus Diem~Highway Poem<strong><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Paint brushes-magenta~deliquesce</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">into tarnished umber &</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">nuzzle the ditch close to</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the highway's shoulder</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">lilies-copper orange~fade</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">trade places with green</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">leaves of poplar and birch trees</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">fuzzy fox tails brush</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the crimson stained highway</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the Mystic has been here</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">infusing</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">trembling gold and bronze</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">Black pools of ravens peck</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">at the blood trail</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">that leads to </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the decapitated deer</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">coyotes zig~zag</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">criss~cross</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">wanting to feast</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">i push over the limit</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">yesterday the stag still</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">had his crown.</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">copyright: Dianne Tchir Sept.25,2010</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-3284751762280535420?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-65885423302121402982010-09-12T10:30:00.000-07:002010-09-12T10:30:53.788-07:00THE CURSEi fit tight jeans<br />with my 49 year old body<br />that feels 25<br />kindles sexual desires<br />mocks youthful flirtation<br />seduced by music & your<br />piercing eyes that<br />cut the chains of<br />limitations & boundaries<br />get me out of me<br /><br />i am coming to you<br />i drink liquid gold, flaming red<br />molten copper through<br />my third eye<br /><br />i lick the cold thin ice-<br />ing off the pond<br />your lips sear memories<br />steal my energy<br /><br />your hands~arms pull me<br />close into your vortex<br />remind me now- the fall<br />of my life<br />your voice is brittle like glass<br /><br />i go from bed to bed<br />not quite sure where to lay my head<br />you have become the bears you hunted<br />i lay in silence<br />arms flail, fists pound<br />with your roar~my tears flood<br />moans into fitful sleep<br />you are lost forever<br />still i yearn your viceral<br />your thoughtful mind~you<br /><br />you are silent now<br />as you hold my hand<br />i hear the shrill grate of your sorrow<br />we are not immortal, invincible or immune<br />one in six will be cursed with dementia ruin<br /><br />Copyright: Dianne Tchir September 12,2010<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-6588542330212140298?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-33692466838600470912010-09-11T13:09:00.000-07:002010-09-11T13:09:24.075-07:00THE DIG<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Landscapes are what we have</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the finds of physical human existence</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the irony of fear, the loss of paradise</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the cycles of pain and sorrow</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">intense sexual passions</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"> dehumanization is </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">the lowest common denominator</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">of our world</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">Sacred images crumble</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">memory layers flake</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">optically present but</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">spiritually alien</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">separate histories</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">land of the dead~ watchers</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">of humanity's fragments</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">copyright: Dianne Tchir 9-11-2010</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-3369246683860047091?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-4580384402257372052010-09-11T12:27:00.000-07:002010-09-11T12:27:33.628-07:00~WAR IN/OUTSIDE WORLDS<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The choice between two evils</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">no faces~desperate anxiety</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">no faces~dangerous power</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">formulae: efficiency & effectiveness</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">precision & paralysis</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">The threads of this worship</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">are the fabric of human genocide</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana;">copyright: Dianne Tchir September 11, 2010</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-458038440225737205?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-86109867369163429802010-09-05T08:57:00.000-07:002010-09-05T08:57:39.486-07:00THE AGED ARE MANY<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Children innocent of</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">wayward life</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">seek golden stairways</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">to rest the winter</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">of life</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Cold rock & lifeless </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">porcelain forbid</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">aging bodies dignity</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The crowded strairway</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">casts shadows of </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">bleak baby boomers</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">boxed DESOLATE</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Copyright: Dianne Tchir Sept.5, 2010</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-8610986736916342980?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-64225597714520497772010-09-05T08:45:00.000-07:002010-09-05T08:45:55.594-07:00IN SEARCH OF STRENGTH<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">we dwell within a fat man's block</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">built upon a human garbage dump</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">mortar echoes a screaming FREE-WAY</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">that promises a transformed wilderness</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">a winding vacuum of starved time</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">fills with feverish strangers</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">the spirit of a loping deer</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">extinguished by the profit</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">i chance the timothy fields</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">once ours, now raped</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">i lay facing the earth</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">suffocated by malignant time</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">a river meanders below the flat</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">poisoning~swallowing banks of earth</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">carving an abyss, filling with refuse</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">determing rights for patent death</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">the search for strength begins</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">in the abyss infested with human destruction</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">shadows get lost to the universe</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">showering the long painful climb</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">copyright: Dianne Tchir September 5, 2010</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-6422559771452049777?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-2677449917137079282010-08-31T18:16:00.000-07:002010-08-31T18:19:11.738-07:00NAKEDNESS<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>There is no glitter or shine</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>my nakedness grips the sand</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>THE UNIVERSE encompasses my past &</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>present, with gentle impunity</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>unconditionally</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>i am incomplete</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>a comet streaks across</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>the skylit stage, not</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>touching a single performer</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>The body of water</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>draws me into</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>its cold arms</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>quenching my burning skin</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>indulging my senses</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>The water's cadence</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>arrests my breath</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>i am one in this history of time</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>my nakedness returns to</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>the burning sand , as my hands</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>grasp the tail of </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>the streaking comet</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>copyright: Dianne Tchir August 31,2010</strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-267744991713707928?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-10333845357566946232010-08-28T16:34:00.000-07:002010-08-28T16:34:53.088-07:00GIFTS<strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The riches i treasur are</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">the lives who care</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> not afraid to take risks</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> not afraid to share</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> a gentle touch from</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> a meaningful thought &</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> a warm summer breeze</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Not afraid to share</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> the silence of night</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> a murmuring stream</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">recycling hope & flowing with</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">spirit and the riches of dreams</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Not afraid to share</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">a glimpse of the past</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">slip into my skin</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">connect with the present</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">explore visions of</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">the future</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Not afraid to reciprocate</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">respect individuality</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">maintain the thread of humanity</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> &</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">endorse the exchange with sincerity.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Copyright: D.M.Tchir Aug.28,2010</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-1033384535756694623?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-73845373210672267972010-08-28T15:15:00.000-07:002010-08-28T15:15:50.363-07:00Disease of DECEPTION<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The silhouettes wear</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> eyes of pallid glass</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">disguising the abyss</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> of tragedy</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">They quickly change</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> their masks</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">to fit the shadows</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> of reality</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Deceptive eyes reflect</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">the gods of immortality</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">enslaving the audience</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">with mirrors of prosperity</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">The silhouettes stagger</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">children try their masks</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">closed glass eyes shatter</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">revealing shadows of death</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">The silhouettes perform</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> fear in pantomime</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">disguising the mirrors</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> of prosperity</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">The shadows encroach</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> unveiling reality</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> creating the abyss</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> of anxiety</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Copyright: D.M.Tchir Aug.28,2010</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-7384537321067226797?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-5443282641257713862010-08-22T19:42:00.000-07:002010-08-22T19:42:11.396-07:00A CONVERSATION<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You are a new face</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">i welcome your personhood</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> as i search behind</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> your speaking eyes.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I yoke myself to your matrix</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> in a dream i see</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">the mythical womb of BEAR</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">uniting with SKY SPIRIT</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">language stringing culture's beads</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">circumscribing your nature.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Your circle has no end , only</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> a beginning</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">i tune~you share talk</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">i knowingly feel your words.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">We exchange our beads</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">enlarging our circle of living</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">understanding each other's</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">nature of being.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Within your circle</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I" is not centre</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> but shines when</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">the string resonates</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">pulsating images of others.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;">copyright: D.M. Tchir Aug.22,2010</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-544328264125771386?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-56331593409948026322010-08-22T00:22:00.000-07:002010-08-22T00:22:38.046-07:00CHANGE<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">CHANGE invades my future</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">temporary symbols & images</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">expose my convulsing language</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> i misread reality</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">our tightly wired world</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">zaps~place, space & time</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> alters the way i feel</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">the texture of my existence</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">POWER, SPEED & FORCE</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">discharge unfamiliar shapes</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">social fabric is replaced</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">we plug into modules</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> dispose of persons</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">redesign the human race</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">relearn reality & shop</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">for psychological baggage</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">to tightly wire our world</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> AGAIN</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">pending change</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana;">copyright: D.M.Tchir Aug. 22,2010</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-5633159340994802632?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-13898605345731229872010-08-14T22:11:00.000-07:002010-08-14T22:11:45.173-07:00ICY PROFUSION<strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I etch my painting</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> on frosted panes</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">that I may more than see</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">the icy fingers of winter</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Sol invites play</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">as slivers of silver fall away</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The fine brush strokes</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">feathery veins</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">concealing your fine</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">grey strands </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> your weathered face</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> your hidden sorrows</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I want to return</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">to your precious womb</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> to start again</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> to rock you</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">inside of me</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> to take flight but</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">your spirit</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> slips away tranforming</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">icy profusion into bone</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">copyright: Dianne Tchir August 14,2010</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-1389860534573122987?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-17403053618500756912010-08-12T22:30:00.000-07:002010-08-12T22:30:50.999-07:00TANGIBLE<strong><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had to make you concrete</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">you became the sketch</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">i made several strokes</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"> on you</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">hoping you could feel</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">i curved, filled and feathered</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"> crosshatched</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">stroked you diagonally</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">vertically and horizontally</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">I could feel your presence</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"> desire to gain entry</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"> i have finished you</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"> but</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"> cannot touch you</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">copyright: D.M. Tchir Aug. 12,2010</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-1740305361850075691?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-34090177537753856362010-08-10T19:58:00.000-07:002010-08-10T19:59:46.313-07:00THE UNIVERSITY'S AESTHETIC CANTEEN<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The painted green room</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: Arial;">has a real green plant</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: Arial;">the leaves unfold dust</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family: Arial;">the roots sprout ashes</span></em><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Voices pierce the thick air</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">as sounds deflect & mingle</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">off the walls</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Flailing arms & open hands try</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">retrieving familiar sounds~words</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">symbols sign <span style="color: lime;">laughter </span><span style="color: black;">;</span> while</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong><em> <span style="color: red;">angry</span> </em></strong>compartments lock into</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"> each other</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">The ceiling drops phonics</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">watering the confused</span><br /><em><span style="font-family: Arial;">green plants</span></em><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">copyright: Dianne Tchir Aug.10, 2010</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-3409017753775385636?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-31939318737706983632010-08-10T10:08:00.000-07:002010-08-10T10:08:38.468-07:00FINGERS of GENTLENESS<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We move through space</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> vacuum forces</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> sound stones</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> release nets of</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> cloudy feelings</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We confuse life's destiny</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> shout refuge from</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> stormy skies</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Empty hands join</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> showering rebirth</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Weepy arms lend</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> solace to wavering hands</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> gently touching flesh</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> finding</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> malice gone</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">resting inside</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> outside of me</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">copyright: Dianne Tchir August10, 2010</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-3193931873770698363?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-4004827251704896832010-08-09T21:15:00.000-07:002010-08-09T21:40:33.624-07:00HUBRIS<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> You slip into your head</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <strong>safe</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">you're immortal like</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <strong>Shakespeare's</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">word <strong>salads </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong> </strong>never wilting</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"> never souring</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">your photograph doesn't reveal</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"> your <strong>HUBRIS</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">your face is lost to</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">ripples in the water</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">copyright: D.M.Tchir Aug.9, 2010</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-400482725170489683?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-65556791075730757792010-08-08T22:14:00.000-07:002010-08-08T22:14:05.639-07:00CULTURE'S SIN<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">i hide...inside...my cultural cocoon</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">peeking...outside...my alienated nature</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">the painted...illusions...dictate quality</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> i tuck ...inside...rehearse</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> the script daily</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">the mask...hides...the civilized evil</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">the umbilical cord of Legitimate Authority</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">precasts the embryos...seeding inequality</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">promissory notes pulsate the machinery</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">reduce my essence to superficiality</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">the toxic cocoon consumes my identity</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">copyright: D.M. Tchir August 8th, 2010</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-6555679107573075779?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95772246000614589.post-40419699234548405862010-08-08T18:14:00.000-07:002010-08-08T18:14:02.121-07:00Dianne's Wordshop<a href="http://dianneswordshop.blogspot.com/">Dianne's Wordshop</a>:<br /><br />THE DIRECTOR<br /><br />Today we try<br /> cultural understanding<br /> appeals for a better world<br /> changes in content<br /> physical structures<br /> discharching anger at<br /> cause & effect.<br /><br />The actors are<br /> without scripts<br />The roles mirror<br /> everyman's security<br /><br />The director diverts<br /> cultural conflict.<br /><br />The Play is here<br />where the masks hide<br />weary strained faces<br /><br />The director ordains<br /> the space for bodies<br /> mulling them fit<br /> for roles<br /><br />Outside the bubble<br /> the script unwinds<br /> categorical boxes that<br /> swell institutions<br /> founded on justification.<br /><br />copyright: D.M.Tchir August 8, 2010<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/95772246000614589-4041969923454840586?l=dianneswordshop.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dianne Tchirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18173489461262459993noreply@blogger.com4