New Poetry Blog

I've published a book of the poems inspired by my Mamma's art, and now I've moved on to writing poetry about everything and anything that inspires me, still taking from the visual... photographs or art.

Go to the new poetry blog:
http://web.me.com/betinahershey/Betina/Poetry/Poetry.html

(Photograph of my Mother sitting at her kitchen table eating alone before my visit.)

Loose Ends: Face Photo by Betina Hershey Russo

Cut off the loose ends.
Freedom.
It might be choppy,
It might be rough,
But it's new
And lighter.

Let me fly away
Towards the icy lavender sky
Until the darkness breaks the ice
Like a heavy hammer,
Strong, certain, and
Deadly.

Flower Airplane: Original_20X22_Acrylic by Carol Hershey

1/5/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Pick a flower, cut an orange,
Fold the world into a perfect
Plane and fly it
Towards the horizon.
I am glad to have found
Your pencils and the spider
That tickles me
In between bating flies.
Look how the sun gleams
Through the glass
And creates such lines of light
Upon the lavender curtains.
I'm soaring in my flower plane,
Sorry to be leaving you behind.

Shattered

1/4/08_Poem by Betina Hershey

SHATTERED

Gripping glass in hand
I struggle for composure
In front of our potted plants.
You click, click, click away, brow furrowed, engrossed
By Craig's List again.
I imagine glass shattering, splattering, dancing in broken bits
While you are trying to make a dream come true,
Trying not to let me down in the some near distant future.
Right now, as I ask you again, yes again, to look at me, I remember
To be thankful the vines and African Violets are still somewhat alive
And that you love me enough to dream.

Sundays: 1982_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

1/4/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Sundays

The thing about Sundays:
Tomorrow I'll get up early
And I'm looking forward to the fray
Of seeing people all day
But right now I'm regretting
All the things I've been getting
Myself into
When there's such a lovely sun
Shining throug the window onto my
Newly acquired old flower couch
And the hammock is hanging,
Ever ready for a swing or two,
And the library books have begged
Again and again, "Read me! Read me!"
So getting up too early and leaping up
To go sing in the choir of God's glory
Keeps getting shunted to next Sunday.
Yes, next Sunday I'll finally take those
Two hours to be a part of something
Upliftingly social and maybe even
Get out the yoga mat after, or better -
Invite everyone over for a yoga party.

But my favorite of all
Is to sit here in the sun
With my papers and projects and quiet,
Knowing I've somehow managed
To be here, alone
This Sunday, at least,
Worshiping my own way.

2 Vases: 1979_Ink_Drawing_1 by Carol Hershey

1/3/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I have two names
Like I'm a vase sitting next to myself, saying
"Hey, Russo, how goes it?"
"Why fine, thanks, Hershey. And you?"
We're two vases chatting, snuggled close,
Overlapping and sometimes confused.
"I wish I had flowers in me today."
"Oh, no, think of the decay."
What will happen when one of us finally falls
And shatters on the floor?
Will I say to myself, "Well, it's for the best.
There really wasn't room up here for two,"
And then sigh?
Perhaps I'll roll down to the pieces
And delicately put them inside my cavernous insides
And enjoy the weight hidden,
The two MEs finally one.

Moon Sliver: 1980_Ink_Drawing4 by Carol Hershey

1/2/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I never meant to
leave you
Alone on the edge
of a planet,
Rolling, rolling,
rolling.
I see you found three
friends
Who have pointed out
that glorious
Sliver of moon, and
the stars
Freckling the sky.
I may return.
If I do, will you allow
me to land?

Shawn: 1984_PencilDrawing_Shawn by Carol Hershey

1/2/08_Poem by Betina Hershey

A good book
in a quiet
nook
with the smell
of jelly
being smeared
on crackers
for a snack,
ah the rain
can pour
down,
the snow may
pile and drift
but no one
will tear him
away
from his hero
slashing dragons
and the imminent
disaster
of aliens.
Except when the doorbell rings
and it's Joey from the next block
ready with his Star Wars figurines.

Crying T: 1984_ColorPencil_Drawing6 by Carol Hershey

1/2/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I though we were past the longest night.
Why do I still see shining tears
Flying down from our chimney
Like Christmas lights lighting up the void?
At least the tornado didn't lift our home away
And leave us staring up
At Nothing.

Or would that be better?
Two lost souls in the wilderness
Clinging to each other out of fear...
Rather than two angry citizens
Cutting their meat rather hard
And jabbing at the garbage
Collecting by their slippered feet.

Lamp watching Eggs: 2003_Ink_Drawing29 by Carol Hershey

1/2/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I keep on
watching
these three
dreams,
these delicate orbs
spinning on
my knee.
Will they survive?
The frost is coming
and last night's volcano
splattered lava
on their cool cases,
though I bent to cover
them with my shade.
My neck grows weary
but I will never stop
watching.
The one time I left
and returned on tiptoe
they looked so pitiful.
All the others
had broken
out of neglect and
fright.
Only these three
still spin here.
I won't turn away
for any sound
until they've hatched.

Onward and Upward: 2007_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

1/1/08_Poem by Betina Hershey

Onward,
red
warrior
flower,
into the dew frost,
the winter fray.
Shine upward
with certain petal
and calm quill!
Two thousand and nine
little lambs bleat and dribble
all over the moss.
We will all
see twilight's
purple,
luscious
new
year
so onward
and upward.

Pencil Blend: 2006_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

12/31/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

This year
Passed like a stone:
Big and bland,
Painful to push through.

When I examine
The excrement
I am astonished
To find such a dainty oval
With dusk in its colors.

I expected a dull sheen,
A rough, well angled, ravish-less
Rock
But now I see
So many shades
Of forgiveness.
Your eyes are in the polish
Somewhat withered, but cat-joyous
In the new-found sun.

Blue Angel: 1990+_ColorPencil_Drawing4 by Carol Hershey

12/30/08_Poem2 by Betina Hershey Russo

My angel is watching
Sadly
As I crash
Against the charcoal ember.
My angel thought perhaps
I was finally lifting towards air,
Purifying towards child,
Green again, kind again,
Open.
I want to be open,
But all I see
Is the door slamming
And your shabby coat
Thrown over our delicate flowers.
What I should see:
The twinkle in your eyes,
Your calloused hands
Pointing out Jupiter.

Red Harrd Snob: 1988_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

12/30/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

With eyes shut, nose lifted
And long mouth under-frowned,
She harrumphs and harrangs
And sniffs harr-de-harr.
No use tr'n tuh fix me,
Or cheer me or jeer me
Cuz I've done it all and it's nothing much. Nagh.
She's so sure that the world is curdled
And the milk is shattered
And the mice are barking
That she becomes the red wolf
Instead of the lime green frog fairy.
Oh, she's old beyond years
And mean, oh so mean.
She's built walls up and down
All around her art
And there she marches back and forth
With a million ideas to execute
One by one.

Two Vases 1st Version by Carol Hershey

12/28/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

up in the big blue
two best buds
vases forever
one a perfect white
and one smeared with earthy mud

will you be there next to me
forever floating
with your pure white smile
next to my feet covered with mud?

i hope so

On Man Band: wacky5b&wdrawing 7-05 by Carol Hershey

12/22/08 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

One Man Band

Clink, clank, booga booga boo!

I'm a one man band, but who are you?

I've a cymbal and a shaker and a xylophone

And I'm singing through an aria with perfect tone.

Don'cha wanna dance,

Fancy dancy purple pants?

Take your money out and put it here...

Pick it up, plink it down, in my cup, in my crown,

In my super dapper tipsy topsy pick-the-tips-up hat.

And that's that!

Final Moment: 2003_Pastel2 by Carol Hershey

12/21/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

We are alone
Together
In a beautiful wash of
Terror
The terror of loving others
Even though we know
We will face that final moment
With only our conscience
Able to tell us
"That was a life well lived."
We become god-linked
And leave this world
To the others
While we wade through the pain
Of tearing flesh, or rotting muscle,
The pain of leaving
And finally reach that white light,
Or that black circle, glowing orange, pink, and gold.

Recharge Station: 1980+_Pencil_Drawing by Carol Hershey

12/13/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Up there, in that circle after life,
May you be completely tucked
Under the fluffy red covers
Of your recharge station
With your favorite books,
A glass of soul water,
And big fuzzy slippers waiting.

And may you stay there
Until I am plugged in
To the recharge station on your left,
The one just recently emptied
By the latest birth,
The one that will let me tap
On the walls between us
And send you messages
About the marriages and kids
You missed.

Soft Edges: 1977_Pencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

12/12/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

in memory of Steve

May you become the softest
Circle,
Complete at last,
As we sweep up the edges
You left behind.

Egyptian Woman: 1987_colorpencil_Egypt_1 by Carol Hershey

12/11/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Lost in thought,
She gazes through her green lashes
At the blue and purple skies.
The flower is from the fields
Where she always stops
On her way back from the watering hole.
You can see the calm power of her thoughts
Linked so perfectly from brain to mouth
And how they will radiate outwards
With pure wisdom.
She will be obeyed,
She with her blue lips
And her straight.
They will listen
When she says they must build her
A pyramid so glorious
That she will not be forgotten.
She doesn't know it yet.
Today she is a young maiden
With no known prospects
Gazing out at the blue sky,
Dreaming.

Reeds: 1985_WaterColor1 by Carol Hershey

12/10/08_Make-up_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Here, amongst the reeds
And the pure blue watering hole
I've lain down my ring of darkness
And my flower of light.
This is where I come;
Here, as the breezes ruffle my reflection
Into brittle shards,
I become a willow tree,
Bending so spryly down
To kiss the blue glass -
That broken and flowing face,
Truth.

Vibrant Town: 1985 Watercolor1Back by Carol Hershey

12/10/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

You've been busy again
Planting rose bushes,
Painting tv boxes green,
Hanging lights,
And stacking crates and shoots
Of all colors and sizes
To make one vibrant town
With blue leaf foot prints,
Yellow rivers, and a real smoke stack.
I always follow you
With my wisps of black and gray
Shadows that catch on fire
And turn into brilliant orange and blue
Cacophony,
Leaping up towards the blue fox
And the strong lady lifting dumbbells.

Space Station: 1986&91_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

12/9/08_Make-up_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

A hazy warmth
Always hangs round
This part of the station.
Ramrod straight plants
Grow in neat little rows
And pods filled with sausage and rice
Are shuttled through the skies
To the next departing flight.
The aura-replacers are open and active,
Glowing purple and pink,
Sending out the sweetest feeling
Of mmmmm
While 100-year-old children
Rest in hammocks
Before the second millenium of their voyage
Towards a greener planet.

Bullseye: 2003_Pastel4 by Carol Hershey

12/9/08_Make-up_Poem2 by Betina Hershey Russo

Is it a tear falling
From an over-exhausted eye?
Or a sliver of glass
Sailing up from a broken mirror
To puncture a tattoo?
Or, perhaps it is hanging there
Like a gong, or a heavy-handed clock.

I think it's a pinwheel
Spinning atop a blue stick
While the wind whirs it
Dizzily about.

Dancing Graves: 2002_Ink_Drawing4 by Carol Hershey

12/9/08_Make-up_Poem1 by Betina Hershey Russo

"Today is a day for
Dancing in front of the graves
Of those we miss,"
Sang the swaying women.
They moved with the fervor
Of joy-bound mourning.
They hung tinsel and flower petals
Over the tall, metal crosses,
Those cold grave markers
Stabbing the earth
Where rotting bodies lay,
Abandoned by souls
With the journey of life
Once again ahead.

Christmas Tree: 2002_Ink_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

12/9/08_Christmas_Tree_Poem by Betina Hershey

It's time to get out
The pretty little tree
And arrange the plastic quills
In delicate arches.
Then hang the noodle-glued angel,
The blue, red and green ornaments,
And that funny, tiny piano.
String the lights,
Those warm glowing blues.
The tinsel goes on last,
Dripping down like icy, shiny
Decadence. Oh, be careful.
Keep it hanging straight.
We don't want a mangled mess.
Plug in the tree
And sit in the dark, gazing.

This, My Home: 1981_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

12/1/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

This, my home,
Place for dancing and dirty dishes,
I don't want to share it
With strangers, no,
I long for a kindred spirit
Emerging from the mist
Of this renovation
To hand me one beautifully pressed
Fig leaf and the photo of a feather
Swirling in a bath.
These hours rush by
As I work for home.
Thank you, universal forces,
For the gifts of solitude, silence,
One radio station that rings clear,
And deeply rooted family.

Her Textile: 1987_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

11/30/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

"It is long, tedious work,"
She says, staring at the textile,
Searching for a flaw in the fabric.
Each dot fills her with awe
And she longs to share the whole thing
With the shivering world NOW!
"They need this autumnal weave
To lose the chill and cozy up a bit."
She hums to herself
And gnashes her teeth in concentration.
She won't sleep
Until her eyes start swimming
With dots and threads
And she knows she has done
All she can.

Chorus: 1990_Ink_Drawing7 by Carol Hershey

11/29/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

We twenty one heads
Bend in the wind and
Give thanks for this day.
Thanks! Thanks! Thank you!
The sky is blue with wispy clouds
And the corn thrasher's paused
Giving us time here
Before its cold metal claws
Tear us up and send us off
Into the jaws of our working day.
We have eaten well,
The rain water was fresh
And it's nice to be surrounded
By family. So we give thanks! Oh, yes!

Headdress: 2003_Pastel3 by Carol Hershey

11/29/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Thanks were given
And thanks received.
The headdress was passed
Down the rows of sober recipients
And placed on each head
As glasses were raised and toasts toasted.
The colors on cheeks flushed
And eyes shone with such sweet corn,
Such creamy pumpkin soup,
And the prospects of new worlds of friends.
I remember it well, the hopes
For peace, for freedom, for cohabitation,
And also the more important desire
To survive the harsh new winter.
They did us right, and we, well,
We tried, but we lost the headdress
And ran out of wine
And after the winter we thought we knew it all.

FilmHead Woman: 1983_Ink_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

11/18/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Her face contains
Multitudes of movies
Bent over the bones
Of her film holder face,
Hair spilling over
Like inky ideas gone haywire
And her skeleton
Stringy and open
To our view.
She walks
And walks
Through the hottest sun
And the rockiest peaks
With thin leather on her feet
And everything she owns
On her back.
Dream circles float
On her shoulders.
She is lucky to have Vision.
She is our Dream Vision Holder.
Her heart is beating
For all of our woes and hopes.
She walks on and on
For us,
Our female Christ,
Our Earth Mother,
Our own ideas of life.

Looking Down: 1978_Pencil_Drawing12 by Carol Hershey

11/17/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Looking down on her
We can see how close
She pulls someone
And how her shoulders slope,
Strong and wide.
Here head is bowed forward
To glance at the egg
Her child holds up.
She is worn out, but full,
Ready for another day.
And then finally the last day
Will creep up like a surprise party
She sensed was coming
And the dishes won't have been put away
But off she'll go.

Funny Moose: 1984_ColorPencil_Drawing4

11/16/08_Make-Up_Poem2 by Betina Hershey Russo

“I was just joking,”
Whined the bucktooth moose
As the rain-tears dripped down
Like two steady drums
Past his ears.
The Moose’s eyes crossed
And re-crossed themselves,
Superstitious by nature.
Something rumbled…
A belly laugh?
Was God weeping tears of mirth?
In those two rain-tear spots,
Up sprang two little moose rose plants.

Below The Surface: 1990_Ink_Drawing12 by Carol Hershey

11/16/08_Make-Up_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I’m wondering what is growing
Below the surface;
Has the corn rooted?
Are the carrots healthy?
Has the soil been purified enough
To leave no trace of pesticide
Seeping through the potatoes?
I pat around the topsoil, curious,
Longing to shovel down
And discover their secrets.

Warm Place: 1992_ColorPencil_Drawing6 by Carol Hershey

11/16/08_Poem by B.H.Russo

I was looking
For the kind of place
Where people touch you
And smile with that non-sexual,
"You are beautiful" vibe.
Down by the river walk,
At the old Irish Inn,
I found an old man singing ditties
About how gay used to mean happy
And telling stories about Dolly Parton's lovely lumps.
But the people danced
And smiled, and alone at my table,
I ate boiled potatoes an shrimp
In this Irish pub in Savannah
I was almost at the Kerrville folk festival
Staying up all night long
With my guitar and my favorite songs
And soft arms to catch me.
Yes, here I was, just listening and merging
With those happy, sloppy Irish-wanna-be souls.

Two Roses: 1984_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08_Make-Up-6 Poem by BHR

I don’t need much.

Land
Sun
Moon
The big dipper
Two roses
A handful of seeds
A cave full of eggs
And a bridge to the sky.

That’s all I have
And all I could ever need.

Except sometimes
I think I might need you.

Mr. Potato Moon: 1979_Pencil_Drawing12 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08_Make-Up-5 Poem by B.H.Russo

Mr. Potato-Moon,
Inconsolable grump
Has his nose in the air
And in his throat – well – a lump.
He’s holding a stop sign
And swatting at flies
While the mountains get chilly
And the North Star flies.
I thought he’d be nicer
While shining his light
But no, he needs something –
A nap or some food
Or maybe a someone
To pat his puffed cheeks
And make him feel better
Til his eyes shine like leeks.

Thoughtful Chicken: 1978_Ink_Drawing8 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08_Make-Up-4 Poem by B.H. Russo

This chicken just posed a question:
Do yesterday and tomorrow exist today?
She knows most roads of memory
Limp into the Ethernet of forgetting,
That corn husks are actually science books
Of instructions not meant to be rewritten,
She believes love is a selfish selflessness.
Yes, this chicken has even reminisced
On aboriginal art, the meaning of sex,
Mist falling upon Brigadoon,
And farmers’ vacant eyes
When they are about to prepare a chicken for market.
Her neck feels funny, but she says,
This is just one more experience
Before I die.

Vaginaharp: 2005_RedPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 Make-Up-3 Poem by B.H.Russo

“Alleluia,” sings the vaginaharp
With opened maw
Salivating and preparing
To sing the famous Mozart aria,
Ever so slightly out of her range.
Her glorious alto vibrations
Rumble through the cavernous room
And mess up the tuning
Of the ever-changing penisguitar.
“Oh let the bright seraph in,”
Counters the ever hopeful
Duet-seeking penisguitar.
“Can’t we make music together,
Though two stringed instruments we be?”
In the end, the strings get tangled
And the tune changes to “My Mamma Done Tole Me,”
But both are happy with the outcome
And decide to pursue slide guitar techniques
And gutteral street cries.

Floating Bottle: 1984_ColorPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 Make-Up-2 Poem by B.H.Russo

The bottle drifts
Over yellow seas
With its rabbit head lifted
Testing the wind
And its branch arms reaching
For the unreachable shore.
There’s a secret inside
Calling you
To shake off your passivity
And dive in! Dive in!

Umbrella: 2004_Pencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

11/14/05 Make-Up-1 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

They are both decked out
In their green, yellow, blue
With fine crosses and circles
And a regal to-do.
They will walk through the weather
Of strong sun or rain
And never feel bothered
Enough to complain.
It’s a joyous occasion
Each time they processes
With cloaks and umbrella
No matter the mess.
You know, I’ve never seen
Them stop or delay
Or miss out on walking
For even one day
And I’m sure I’d feel troubled
If ever there came
A day those two vanished
And left no one to walk in the rain.

SunDesert: 1989&91_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 make-up poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I'll meet you
Where the arches pass
Through the orange moon
And the desert weeds
Grow tall and proud,
Where the magic sled
Waits for us
To wake up
And crawl out of bed.
I'll meet you there
At 4am when the fairies whisper
Good night and good morning
To all who linger.

Witch: 1989_ColorPencil_Drawing5 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 but should have been 10/31/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

There she hangs, upside down
Like a dark kind of clown
With her long pointy nose
And her dark velvet clothes
But her eyes cross and strain
From the blank in her brain
Cuz she's almost forgotten
Which thing should be rotten
And she's tangled her lines
While her purplish vines -
They hold up her glass ball
Making sure it won't fall.
Still, she's dizzy and cross
And a bit at a loss
While she's stuck upside down
With no spell and no sound.

Chick: 1984&91_Odds&Ends1 by Carol Hershey

11/13/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I feel like a little chick
Just discovering
The ground is rich
With things to pick at.
Oh, so many pieces
Of golden grain!
Oh, such a glorious discovery -
Each teeny crumb.

Radiator: 2000_Ink_on_ragpaper3SideB by Carol Hershey

11/12/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Radiators hissing
And the icy floors slowly spreading
With the warmth of a day beginning
Covers strewn about
Pajamaed buttocks pressed to the sizzling
Hot radiator in the dining room,
Gazing out the window at the fallen leaves,
Waiting for breakfast.
This is what I remember
Fondly about the chill of fall and winter
In our parents' house.
Now my radiators are no longer metal coils
But vents in the wall.
Still, they do the same job
And I hover in front of them
Like a child eagerly warming up
To the day.

Comet: 1990_Ink_Drawing5 by Carol Hershey

11/11/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

This is big!
Dazzling-lights big! Glowing-ferris-wheel-in-the-dark big!
Giant-meteor-burning-through-the-earth's-atmosphere big!
This is so big
That I hardly noticed it.
It's the-entire-galaxy-is-invisible-to-my-tiny-eye-but-I-know-it's-there big!
It's dream-come-true-when-you-didn't-even-realize-you-had-a-dream big!
Besides loving you
And loving my family
And loving your family
And loving the universe even when it gave me a bum leg,
I have a house!
Which means leaves to rake
Doors to stain
And walls that will contain
The next 30 years.
Or so my tiny brain believes.

Earthworm: 2002_B&W_Ink_Drawing by Carol Hershey

11/10/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Earthworm with five faces
Grinning like a sweet-eyed granny
At the spotty, dirty, prettily packaged world,
I have my rake and my heap
Of damp leaves;
You keep tumbling, climbing, burrowing.
We are a perfect pair,
Me plunging into the earth
And you climbing up towards tales
Of butterflies.

Reclining Woman: 1984+_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

11/8/08_Poem by Betina Hershey

One day
I'll be a woman of leisure
Reclining on my fuzzy rug
Watching the tree leaves drift
Past the bushes and the porch
To land amongst the broken walnut shells.

One day
I'll have eliminated
The clicking of the clock
The ringing of the phone
The alarm buzzing
And there will be the sweetest silence
Of neighbors' dogs, the passing bus,
And your soft snore.

One day
I'll have all these boxes unpacked
And you'll find me with Ray Charles
And War and Peace
And on the stove will be the biggest pot
Of rice and beans, sausage and red chard.
I'll even have a free range chicken
In the fridge for tomorrow.

One day
Just like today.

Browns and Reds: 1983+_ColorPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

10/28/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I am moving
My stacks of resolutions
All in crisp binders,
My old dreams wrapped in crinkly tissue-paper,
My tomorrow plans scrawled
Over tiny post-its and huge poster paper,
And you,
Wrapped in the weary glow
Of "this will be glorious."

Where we're going,
All of these boxed up items
Will become soft, round, amazingly balanced
In a haze of browns and reds
And teardrop shaped rooms.

Where we're going is more than just
A house. It's a new way
Of saying "future". It's
My own mailbox, a porch, two trees,
A back yard, crickets, a leak,
And your kisses in my kitchen in between gigs.

Crazed Clown: 1991_ColorPencil1 by Carol Hershey

10/27/09_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I feel like
a crazed clown:
bloodshot eyes,
brain waves screaming
AIIIIEEEEE!

I feel like
a ferris wheel
out of control
in a misty grey
sky while children
scream
MOOMMMYYYY!

I feel like
a red pen scraping
across a page
marking out a mouth
for such a frazzled
face. om.

Rocking Chair: 2002_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

10/27/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Moving
All of these boxes filled with poetry books,
Journals, college text books, music binders,
Dishes, towels, sheets, dresses smushed in,
And all of your old tapes,
I long to pare down to the elemental:
One painted rocking chair.
Imagine a house.
Shiny wooden floors.
Creamy white walls.
Sunlight.
And a rocking chair.
How lovely.
Instead, we will have boxes.
So many boxes to unpack
And fill those walls with our old
Clutter.

Bursting: 1995+_Pencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

10/25/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Oh, I'm gonna burst
Up and out and all over the place
With journal pages falling
Like rose petals and dandelion seeds
Softly through the air
And with legs like jack-in-the-box springs
And arms like tornadoes
Lifting everyone in my path
Up and away into my love!

Oh yeah, I'm gonna bounce
Ideas off of mountains and moons,
And Shakespeare verses off of giants
With rascally beards.

Big saggy blue chair.
Wind chimes in the distance.
Traffic street hum.
A light breeze.

Everywhere around me - boxes.
Boxes of clothes, boxes of books
Boxes waiting to be filled
With the items of my life's collection.

Me? I am not boxed in,
Shut down, covered up!
I am silently, motionlessly
Bursting.

Moose: 1987&91+_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

10/24/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Hills
Vales
Moose with googly blue eyes
Flowers
Caves
Blue grass, blue sky, blue rivers

The post office is made of clay
and begonias
The jail
is full of cushions and veils

Touch my sleeve
But don't wake me

Elephant Eye: 1986_WaterColor4 by Carol Hershey

10/23/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

The elephant eye
Never blinks.
I am calmed
By its steadfast gaze,
It's multifaceted blue
And velvety brown skin,
So thick and so
Vulnerable.

Robot: 1984+_ColorPencil_Drawing by Carol Hershey

10/22/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

"Bleep blip rasmatazle"
Says the messy bloink ickle robot.
"Eeeee oiiii urkle bleep blip!"
Translation:
"So much treasure!"
Says Ernie.
"Love this sippycup so much!"
"Brungle ricky rack proog?"
Asks the teeny tiny ant-rifkin.
"Shmooooogieferous!"

Wizard: 1980_Pencil_Drawing7 by Carol Hershey

10/21/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Inside of this cloaked wizard, this marriage
There are so many journeys to make
To find and protect that magic token
And save the whole body.
Luckily there are gnomes, fairies,
And all kinds of do-gooders
Willing and able to leave their jobs
And wander down endless roads,
Up jagged peeks, through torrential rivers,
Sacrificing for the good of the whole.
Oh, yes, the wizard-cloak-marriage
Has his hand on the glass ball
And he's cackling over the misfortunes
Of such tiny players. But
Little does he know
How strong they are, and how many
Will rise up in the name of love.

Fall: 1989_Ink_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

10/19/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Fall is tickling the air
And the four suns.
She laughs and laughs
At winter hearts.
Ha! Didn't you know?
Winter is on sabbatical.
The soil is eager for seed,
The grasses lift up their arms to dance
And the tear drops have soaked the earth.
Warm and wet, full of compost,
Fall is really pushing for a full-time job.
The boss comes in, wags a finger.
You won't be paid for these hours!
Fall shrugs and slooches off.
Ah well. Maybe next year.

Surrender: 1979_WaterColor1 by Carol Hershey

10/18/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Surrendering
To the flow of crimson
To the life ebbing and sweeping
Out of my body to join
The oceanic world;
Yes, surrendering
To the heaviness of my limbs
And the invisible hand reaching
Into my center to give it a twirl
Like a lettuce spin-dryer;
Surrendering to the waters,
To the waves and surges and soft ebbing
Of such a magnificent flow,
I am a woman alive in the world
Bleeding to death again.

Wind Storm: 1997_B&W_Ink_Drawing by Carol Hershey

10/17/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Up, up and away, the ideas of change
Storm the sky with hugs and kisses
And swooping bouquets of ballooning love.
May these winds continue to billow
And these ideas never lose their x's and o's.
May change be something we see
And feel upon our summertime skin,
Even in the winter.
Yes, up, up, and there it is
So proud to declare:
There's a new way!

A what way?

A flower way! A shower way!
A motherly way! A fatherly way!
A helpful, natural, considerate way!
A gorgeously sparkling way!

What? Are we, like, um,
Trying to be the 60's all over again?

No. But it's a greener, organic,
Touch-your-neighbor-without-taking-off-
your-clothes-or-your-nose way,
A mature, kind of slow and sure way,
Well, an any-way-but-this-way kind of way.

Teardrops: 1989+ColorPencil_Drawing by Carol Hershey

10/16/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

After almost a year
I have no visible tears
But my arms ache
Like teardrops falling towards your body
Which isn't there to catch them...
Falling through an interminable absence
Of hand on cheek.
This phone in my hand?
I was about to call you...
After all this time, I still almost believe
You will answer.

Night City: 2005_ColorPen_Drawing by Carol Hershey

10/15/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

In the middle of the night
The palm fronds glow white,
Tear drops hang like balloons from stars,
And adobe houses shine orange and green and purple.
Eggs peek up in rows at the green hay
And dreams turn into x's and o's
And roll down the streets,
Filling up the drains with their red snoring.
This is my city, my normally gray, tall city,
Turned into a Florida party.
I met it tonight, after the 5th mosquito bite,
Swelling red and telling tales
Of secret swamps, alligators
And a bright white palm tree.

Perky Mat: 2001_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

10/12/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Peek-a-boo!

Imagine me curled up
On a perfect Sunday afternoon
In October, lovely, fresh, still-warm October,
Covered with the puffiest blue blanket,
About to fall asleep on my bamboo mat.

And imagine my ears
Hearing silence, curious silence
Free of guitar plucks, free of rewind, play,
Rewind, play, scribble, scribble.

Yes, imagine me peeking
With my bulging ear-eyes
Around corners, over furniture,
Right at you on the bed,
Happily, importantly typing away.

Later, in your panicked rush, you wondered
Where the time went
But I know. I saw,
Even in my sleep.

Peek-a-boo!

Soft Glow: 1998_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

10/11/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

So soft, the twilight glow
Over a busy town full of harvest.
You are sleepy and content
And I, tucked into my bed, am smiling
At your 38 year self.
We have it good. The hens are laying,
The cows produce milk, the sun shines,
And our bundle of love keeps growing,
Even after getting ripped open
By hungry birds.

Blue Mask: 2006_WaterColor5 by Carol Hershey

10/9/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I cannot speak, I cannot tell
Just what kind of personal hell
I'm drowning in, and yet, oh yes,
This oceanic surge of blue
It lifts me through this kelpy mess,
Reminds me how your heart is true
And oh, life loops and longs for YES.

Yes, yes, release, undress!

Oh dear, my eyes, they're bugging out
My mouth clamps shut while folklores sprout,
And oh, I so long to confess
My soul, sweet soul, it drips with beads
And blue, blue, so much blue
All pulling me back through the weeds to you.

Cosmic Creature: 1985+89_ColorPencil_Cosmic Creature by Carol Hershey

10/7/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Cosmic Creature

I have my skirts, my beads, my flounce
My antennas are combed, my face raised
And those brain waves, soul waves, creation juices
They are turned on, sizzling with peaks and valleys!
Call me cosmic gypsy creature,
Gyrating planetary thing,
Mystical insect reflecting the sky line,
Call me anything at all, but oh, I'm so glad
You always do call me.
My wires are ready to be crossed and tapped
And tickled by your life, by this crazy galaxy.
The stars are out like tarot cards.
I'll read them to you.
And you... oh... you are
So beautiful to me.
Jangle. Swirl. Om. Dip. Brush.

Magic Carpet: 2000_Ink_on_ragpaper3SideA by Carol Hershey

10/3/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Take me up and away,
Magic rug.
I don't know where to...
Maybe the stars, the planets?
They twinkle so. And oh,
I'd love to see Saturn up close.
Take me up and away
From this dusty floor
And my stomach always begging
For more, more, more.
Take me away from the freezer
Full of ice cream I love to scoop out
With potato chips... mmm.
Away from the piles of music and cards,
Away from my big warm bed.

Be my magic yoga mat rug
And we'll go up and away
Right here, right now
With the in and out of breath.
We'll see stars, we'll spin like moons.
And after we've gone just far enough
The sun salutation
Will bring us home.

Hanging: 2003_Ink_Drawing11 by Carol Hershey

10/2/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Sometimes I realize
All of my pretty dreams
And my even pulpier un-dreams
Are hanging by a thread.

Here I am, balancing
On the prettiest, littlest wire
While this little gem and that little bead
And those lovely weaves
Dangle from a golden stitch
That is oh, oh, so thin.

Amazing, how that thread holds!
Winds blow! Oh, they gust!
The wire sculpture sways.
It quivers and shivers in each thrust.

Amazing, how I remain
With at least one foot, or no,
One tiny toe planted
Upon the tinsel frame, the iron wreath
Of my pretty life.

Evening Ferris Wheel: 1986_ColorPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

10/1/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Evening shadows and tones
Shift and pull at our sleeves
As the ferris wheel lights up
And the we grin and yelp.
We are in the ride of a lifetime -
Life gently lifting us up
And setting us down,
Showing us the sunrise and sunset,
The black holes in our hearts
And the morning glories to wake us
In time for relief.

Smile: 1986+_Odds&Ends by Carol Hershey

9/30/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Aw. Look at that smile!
You're just glowing!
A healthy gray flush
Upon your murky cheeks
And your nose lit up like the sun!
If that ain't contentment,
I don't know what is!

In the morning, I wiggle and wag
And you gaze up at me with such a
Sleepy grin, such a content dream,
This morning version of you.

When I feel rotten
I grin like you do
Just to try it out
And find myself standing there
Grinning away my day.

Dream Catcher: 1977_Ink_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

9/28/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

My net is full of dreams:

Bent wire hangers turned into

Airplanes and necklaces

And cities and families.

These wire dreams keep turning

Into butterflies.

Up they fly, into the rainy sky,

Looking back for a quick nod of thanks

As they go off to live their own lives.

My net is full of dreams

That keep coming true

And escaping me.

Ooh, look!  This one's tangled

Into a full nest.

Red Dimension in Black: 2004_AcrylicOnPaper3 by Carol Hershey

9/27/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Life
Red, circular, glowing
Complex, with edges jutting up and ending
With circular pathways linked
To the heart

Life, alone and complete
Impossible to ignore
In the pitch black

The universe screeches solitude
But can not overwhelm
This incredible presence
This giant occurrence
This om shanti praise be to the all knowing
Creator
Who picked up a brush one day
And said, let there be life!

Yellow Peace: 1992+_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

9/26/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

This one brings me peace

Look at the motion, the individualistic order
The lines, circles and swoops

I’m at home in yellows and whites,
Her delicate, steady way of letting lines touch hills

My heart wanders the squiggly lumps and valleys,
Eyes lingering longingly, restfully
As my soul sinks into the delicacies

Oh, how her gifted treasures to the world and herself
In lone meanderings of the mind
Bring peace

Pick Ax: 2004_B&Red_Ink_Drawing by Carol Hershey

9/25/06_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

With my pick ax
I strike out into that great unknown
Of blazing red suns
Cactuses, and forever doodles.
I dig into the rocks and pull out
Squiggly lines, vibrant circles, loops
And love.

With my pick ax
I am tearing the world apart
One quirky ink line at a time
While your memory blows around me:
Kisses that stick to my cheek
With softest care.

Mythic Sails: 2003_Ink_Drawing10 by Carol Hershey

9/24/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

In the sky
Mythic sails and magical wind chimes
Stir in the wind:
Sacred gusts of whistling, bellowing.
Oh, the moon is full and my trinkets are dear to me.
This night I feel sure Helen of Troy
Is out and about, jangling her bracelets.
All the men are mysteriously compelled to wander
Towards the center of the universe
Where the sails bellow and blow
In mythic flashes of white, compelling us all
To journey forth.

So Red: 2007_MixedMedia1 by Carol Hershey

9/23/08 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

With painting, red can be so many things
It can be what life is, what it was, what it shall become.
It can be blood smeared, vibrancy or snowflake delicate.
There are such indescribable complexities
Explained through the way red
Shows a bit of white, and then dissembles
Into orange.

With poetry, it's hard to make much of red.
Until red is describing Was, who's underneath Is
While Is is squirming to hold Was down and away
From some indescribable pleasure,
Some potential Will Be.

Imagine this whole poem
In shades of red
With owl glass circles
Looping through
The red was is will be.

Eye of Needle: 1986+_ColorPencil_Drawing6 by Carol Hershey

9/22/08 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Oh, let me pass through
The eye of the needle
While it blazes with orange light.

Let me leave behind my body,
My jealousy, my items of possession
And become part of the blue, swirling
Consciousness, soul enlightened,
And kind.

I remember to be kind
When I’m alone, thinking back,
But how can I purify myself?

Let me jump through hoops, let me
Pass through the eye of the needle
And become truer than I am.

Let me be you, me, everyone
And no one at all,
And let it do the world good.

Stain Glass: 1975_WaterColor1_Back by Carol Hershey

9/21/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I keep forgetting
To take in the stain glass city.
Instead, I see blackness everywhere
And doubt, and imperfection.
Well, when I look at the stain glass city,
I remember that glorious imperfections exist
In the arches and lines and colors and windows stained
Multi-browns, changing blues,
And calm selections of prayers.
I just keep forgetting.
I'm sorry.

Flower Child: 1983_Ink_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

9/20/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I am a flower child
Or, I was one once.
I still have petals in my brain,
Petals in my bosom, and the essence
Of flowers rotting in every cell
Of my ex-flower-child body.

There are wires, curly wires
Caging me in, fossilizing my flower power
And turning me into a flower cage.

Today, I am a flower stuck inside
Of a wire mesh cage.

Tomorrow, will I be a flower sneaking through
The tiny hole and opening up again

Or will I be a wire mesh sculpture
With a secret inside?

Mountain Path: 1980_Pencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

9/19/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo
(Inspired by the documentary "God Grew Tired of Us".)

The sun and moon shine down.
The path winds endlessly away
From the old home that is no more
To the future we don't know is waiting.

Lost Boys, we are our own caretakers
And watch over each other,
The eldest digging graves in the sand
As bones become brittle and hearts stop.
The beautiful desert mountains give us nothing.
We will get to the soul of matters
In songs, shrieks, shakes, and questions.

When I accept the trip to America,
I know I am leaving my brothers
To work hard, dig ditches, scrub dogs teeth,
Get shot at in the streets.
So I thought. So we thought.
And I do work hard, sending home every dollar,
But I do not dig ditches, or scrub dogs teeth,
Or get shot at in the streets.

Much worse - there is loneliness!
Where are the people who can answer
My questions about Santa Clause
And cruelty, and where my Mamma might be?
This is not Africa.
We are safe, but there is no time
To see our brothers, to meet and sing.
We will make time, we say.
Weeks go by.

There is no loneliness as deep
As the loneliness of a lost boy
Separated from the other boys.
The struggle is great.
I do it for Africa, for Sudan,
Yes, for my walking brothers.

Still the sun and moon shine down
Upon the path I hope
Shall bring all of us back home.

SunCluster: 1982_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

9/17/08_1982_ColorPencil_Drawing2_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Up there in the sky I imagined up this morning
There are at least ten suns
All clustered together having a pow-wow
About ancient Egyptian texts.
You know they are so far away that even at the speed of light
They are light years away from today.
They still wear togas and flower wreathes in their bristly hair...
Or they would, if they were human.
But being suns, they shine forth
Their yellow and rose and peach rays
And I gaze up at them and write down
The rainbow feelings they stir up in me
This glorious, sunny day.

Feather in Cap: 1980_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

9/17/08 Feather In Cap by Betina Hershey Russo

He's hunched over
Suspiciously guarding his fancy watch
And his beautiful new wind chime.
Feather in cap, this blue-eyed bird merchant
Hops and sneaks, sneaks and hops
Towards his nest
In the darker corner of town
Where he will lay on his bed
And gaze at the shiny new objects
Before tucking them into the straw
And taking his rest.

Damask Mask: 2005_RedPencil_Drawing2

9/16/08_2005_RedPencil_Drawing2_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Oh!
Oh my goodness!
(pant, pant, groan)
I just heard....

The mask never stops
It's shocked gossip patter
With hair frozen in electrocuted ringlets
And eyes pried wide open.

I sneak behind it
And recline into the grayish morning
With my laptop, my poems and orange juice.
Om.

Oh my! Can you believe!?
It's just too much for words!
Oh! Oooooh! Oooooh! Oh!

The little monkey mouth
Is a perfect circle
Of doubting ecstasy.

Sad Frog: 1986_ColorPencil_Drawing by Carol Hershey

9/15/08_1986_ColorPencil_Drawing_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Oh, the sun may be hot
With laughter and spice
And though flowers may rot
Still, a frog's life is nice
But I must ask, while masking my curry,
Is it my voice, with its blat and its croak
That caused you to duck down and simper and scurry
Away from my pond where I ponder and choke
Back a few tears.
Oh yes, it appears
That you just couldn't handle my jocular croak,
And that's why you vanish beneath your dark cloak.

Fire Windows: 1978_WaterColor1 by Carol Hershey

9/14/08_1978_WaterColor1_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Fire windows
Outside - thick nothingness
Doubt
The chill of winter smoked out

How long can you last
Inside the furnace
Glare
Red, angry, glowing coals
When there is an immense nothing
Waiting for you
To leap into
And disappear in

Waterfall: 1978_Ink_Drawing4 by Carol Hershey

9/13/08_1978_Ink_Drawing4_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

The water cascades down
In gloriously falling sheets of silk.

Underneath the sheets:
A magical slide with one pure egg,
The egg of secret tomorrows
Whispered between wide-eyed two-year-olds.

Just for you:
The water-mountain sliced open
In an invitation
To be that curious child who knows
The sweetest secret
Without the hammer, the shovel, the pickaxe or the pen.

Tribe: 2003_Ink_Drawing4 by Carol Hershey

9/12/08_2003_Ink_Drawing4_ Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

The tribe gathers
With their long, serious faces
This special night
Around the teardrop fire.
There is a lot to discuss.
The most pressing:
The new forehead design.
The youngsters are rebelling.
Two circles linked together by stripes
Makes them restless.
They squeeze the circles into triangles,
So angular above their already
Angular beaks.
The elders pontificate and ponder,
And yet somehow they know
Triangles are now the shape of the future.
Like it, or not.
Teardrops, someone whispers.
Huh?
We could round the triangles out into teardrops.
A sigh of contentment, and a look of hope.
Yes, teardrops.

Bridge: 2003_Ink_Drawing9 by Carol Hershey

9/11/08_2003_Ink_Drawing9_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Recurring dream:
Terrifying bridges,
Gaping holes, impossible climbs
On the swaying rigging
Over cold, rough waves.

This bridge:
Has the climb, and yet...
How it floats gently
With lovely little loops and bubbles.
Yes, the gaps are there.
My feet could slip through,
But I believe this one
Will bring me safely home.

Soul-Eyes: 2007_WaterColor5 by Carol Hershey

9/9/08_2007_WaterColor5_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

In the evenings
She sits serenely and gazes
Out at the expanding universe,
The clouds blurring, stars shaping
Milky ways and belts and dippers,
Such an intrigue of patterns.
Her skeleton holds her soul-eyes up.
Her brush holds and drips paint.
With paper in lap, she shifts,
Tucks a hair behind her ear,
And records the glorious work,
The tender chaos, the textures unimaginable
Imagined.

Bouquet: 1982_Pencil_Drawing5 by Carol Hershey

9/8/08_1982_Pencil_Drawing5_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

The fields are full
Of flowers and beads
All swaying and tumbling about
While we skip towards the
Party with grass stains
On our white dresses and such
Fun on our faces. Wait!
This dandelion and this buttercup
Would go perfectly with that four leaf clover.
Can you just imagine their faces
When they see what we've brought?

Watching: 1976_BlueInk_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

9/4/08_1976_BlueInk_Drawing1_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Is that you?
The breeze stirs.
I know you're happy
Watching the way things
Unfold, watching as I
Untangle this and that and
Learn a little more about
Love. The blue calm. Walnut trees.
I'm almost certian it's you there
Dangling in the air -
A loose, blue ribbon of eye
Taking all of this in.

Arousal: 2001_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

2001_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing2_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Two lives
Zippered together,
Lifting like the long neck
Of a giraffe, curious
And eager to nibble
At those leaves just out of reach,
Ready to burst up and out
And leap into that delicious
Tree of life!

Yellow & Blue: 1982_ColorPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

8/30/01 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

There is no one shade
Of yellow, no one blue, not even
One section devoid
Of texture, variance, a bit of
Personality.
Observe the opacity, the wear and tear,
The wrinkles and creases as if
Fossilized. As if
Chipped out of a mountain:
So much peace! Earth
And changing sky
Frozen into one slate
Of paper and pencil.

Mountain Train: 1979_Pencil_Drawing3

8/29/08_1979_Pencil_Drawing3_ Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

come with me
into the eggs
tumbling up and down
the ski lift and the frost
while the mountains
wave and glare

oh come
to the christmas lights
and babies hatching
in snow oh so lovely
on your lime green coat

elves and santa
tell the great white stork
my favorite bedtime story

don't pull the covers too tight

we must sail away
tonight

Iceberg: 1977_Pencil_Drawing8 by Carol Hershey

8/28/08_1977_Pencil_Drawing8_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

The waves reach up to tickle
The massive iceberg.
Beads of perspiration gather
At each ticklish lapping.
Oh, they hang out, trembling,
Afraid of falling into that trickster of an ocean,
Singing songs while they wait.

I am an iceberg, gliding.
Oh, I love being in your waters -
The waves that reach up always,
Tempting me to giggle, and melt.

Swan: 1982_Pencil_Drawing by Carol Hershey

8/26/08_1982_Pencil_Drawing_ Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Quietly sailing
Through calm waters,
Neck bent
To examine an autumn leaf,
She glides beneath stars,
Wing covered with a flower wreath.
Food peeps up from beneath
The bluest sea,
But she doesn't care, not while she
Ponders the chill
That will ruffle her plumage
As leaf after leaf falls
To remind her of the glory
Of being alive.

Ribbons: 1983_ColorPencil2 by Carol Hershey

8/25/08_1983_ColorPencil2_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Let's run outside
Into the blue, blue sky
And fling our ribbons up.
Oh, let's see what the moon thinks
Of our ribbons soaring.
The long-tailed, pink possum
Gazes up, as if at fireworks,
Meditative, seeing all.
The stars are aligned
And I can't help but grin
A wide, sloppy, face-splitting grin.
Yes, let's run outside
Into the blue, blue sky
And fling our ribbons up
To see how they fly.

Road: 2003_Pastel1 by Carol Hershey

8/24/08_2003_Pastel1_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

This road I'm on
Has messages etched in the dirt,
A secret language scratched with blue chalk.
What does it say?
It's like a symbol in a dream,
So certainly important, so vivid,
And yet, meaningless when awake.
This language is comforting, but
Untranslatable.
How did I get here?
I know:
My love of blue,
And puzzle decoding.
I look up and notice the orange sweep
Of rainbow in the night.
Gorgeous.
Then my eyes return
To the blue etchings, and onward
I shuffle.

Candle: 1988_WaterColor4 by Carol Hershey

8/23/08_1988_WaterColor4_ Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

This candle
I light for you, Mamma.
Blue everywhere, and such light
Glowing for you, Mamma.
Though the day may seem
Empty, or grey, when I light
This candle, write
This poem, gaze
At the blueness everywhere
Through your eyes...
Oh, the day is a glorious night
Of ignition and rare surprise
Really, this candle's for me, Mamma,
To feel your Motherly peace.

She Paints: 1988_WaterColor3_Clover by Carol Hershey

8/22/08_1988_WaterColor3_Clover_ Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

How long did she spend
Picking out just the right blend
Of this aquamarine blue
And that cademin red
And oh, the canary yellow
Mixed with the pure white.
I can see her stirring the brush
In the paint-stained glass mug
And dabbing at the paper towel
Before the next dip into this pure blue
And that pure yellow and a little white
For such a translucent green
Floating over the layer
Of yesterday's pale blue.
How many times did she back away,
Gazing, puzzling?
And how many times did she examine,
Nose almost touching, peering
At this texture here, and that detail there
With a determination to paint it all over
If it didn't say just the right Ah-Ha.
And did she wonder at
How the colors changed many times,
While the shape of the clover remained?

Shocked Planet: 1986_ColorPencil_Drawing4 by Carol Hershey

8/21/08_1986_ColorPencil_Drawing4_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Aiee yai yai yai yai!
What a mess! What a mess!
The stress of it all!
Have you seen my lashes lately?
Have you seen my spotty blue dress?
You'd think I'd been electrocuted
And then splattered with paint.
And my eyes? What a pain!
One's so sad it's gone blue -
Such a pitiful stain!
And the other one's stuck in the mud,
But who's to complain?
I oughta be happy, that's what!
I can hear you all cluck and tutt tutt!
If only I could bounce around again,
Let my lashes curl and dangle,
Kinda soar from planet to planet
Wearing glimmering yellow beads
And the latest spangles!
But aiee yai yai yai yai!
It just ain't to be.
There are numbers to add
And lists with no end.
There are giraffes to be fed
And trousers to mend.
So, I'm stuck in this state
Like a lightning-struck tree!
It's a difficult thing,
Being a responsible planet like me!

The Gladiator: 1986_WaterColor1 by Carol Hershey

8/20/08_1986_WaterColor1_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I am ready!
My helmet is as bold
As I plan to be, a blazing red Mohawk
Slicing through the sky.
Oh, I shall slice the day!
And the newest light blue metal
Encasing my soft, weak flesh.
Yes, I shall encase
Anyone who comes upon me.
And see how the armor around my neck fans out,
Ready to deflect any sudden arrows.
Yes, I shall love the ping, ping sound
As I deflect!
And do you hear that far-away howling?
My demons!
I have shuttled my demons
Into the lake and they clamor there,
Flailing and wailing, eager to follow.
Oh yes, let them flail! Let them wail!
I have my blue sword.
My eyes are busy with the two suns
Upon the horizon.
I am ready!

Pumpkin: 1979_Pencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

8/19/08_1979_Pencil_Drawing1_ Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

He rides his magic pumpkin
Through brooding, maroon skies.
Strings of lights illuminate
The eagerness in his eyes.
The shiny orange exterior
Accents his golden suit
As he flies so high and easily
In his pulpy and peppered fruit.

He suspects the sky has furrowed
Its dark and cloudy brow
From a slight misunderstanding
Over where he should be now:
Down among the cornfields
Sweating all day long
While the skies around him listen
To his overly anguished song.

“Well, today is different
And you’ll have to come ‘round
When I jangle my bells
And share what I’ve found!
Magic! PURE magic
And shimmering, beautiful dreams!
I’ll live in my pumpkin forever
Though jealousy intervenes!”

Well, the sky, it roared and rumbled
And the blackness was like despair
Til those brows, they finally lifted,
And the sunbeams, they split the air:
With a sparkling milky way
And the universe as his choir,
He soars through the sky forever
With reality bursting on fire.

Platypus: 1990_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

8/18/08_1990_ColorPencil_Drawing1 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Oof! Where'd that come from...?

A red strip from the nearby
Egg factory thumps into the body
Of a groggy platypus
Like some kind of stingray,
some thrashing tail.

I was hoping to make it
Down to the river this merry morning.
Rats!

The red strip swings the platypus
Up, sideways, and away
To a different kind of morning
Altogether. A breezy, air-swishing
Slightly bruised, and entirely
Eye-opening kind of morning
That doesn't involve heaping quantities
Of merriness or rivers

But yes! The big gasps of fresh air,
A new section of the forest,
And the long way home
With a strange new red strip
As a walking stick.

In Her Sleep: 1980_Ink_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

8/17/08_1980_Ink_Drawing1_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Hair dangling down,
she sleeps,
hugging the pillow,
her pale faced, moon shaped
pillow, her sleep anchor,
her supportive friend
whispering stories
into her ear.
Lashes on her lid
filter daylight from dreams
as she clings to the sweet, dark world
where she is a voyager
like Ulysses, or Medusa,
or a mythic river.
The daylight tap, tap, taps
and then coats her cheek
with lists of tasks to get done.
Still she peacefully
sleeps.

Nude: 1978_Pencil_Drawing4 by Carol Hershey

8/16/08_1978_Pencil_Drawing4 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

She loves to sit there, nude,
placing her beads on strings,
leaning down to find
that one gorgeous blue bubble
of imperfect glass
to slip onto the vivid red strand
that will dangle from his neck,
sweeping and careening
as off he rushes out
towards the next catastrophic adventure.

Oh Sweet Moon: 2002_WaterColor3 by Carol Hershey

8/15/08_2002_WaterColor3_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Moon, oh sweet moon
My rusty red room,
My buttery shades,
My hampers and toys,
Are all jumping with joy
Just to see you up there.
We're dancing the mambo
With beams in our hair!
We're spinning like weavers
Inside of your loom,
And yet you don’t waver,
You dreamily stare.
Oh Moon, can you see
The chaos you cause
When your calmness invades
Like a calm sort of noise?
I don’t see you blink.
No, you hold firm
Though I wave my whole arm
And I yelp and I squirm.
Yes, what do you think?
There's a look on your face -
Is it sweet dreams and grace?
Or is it alarm?

Hilltop Castle: 1980_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

2/14/08_1980_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Betina Hershey Russo

There they stand,
Bent in the incredible
Heat:
One very old mountain,
One castle with turret,
One giant dome,
Five giant guitar strings
Cabled to the one giant
Music stand with
Three perky antennas.

Off in the shaded forest
The crickets, locusts, tree leaves and dripping water
Create a cacophony of
Sound
That floats back to them all.

How delicious, they think,
And bend a little further
Towards the imagined
Shade.

Plumbing: 2002_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

8/13/08_2002_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Betina Hershey Russo

Imagine the plumbing under the sink
Putting on its bangles and beads,
Spiking up its rust-colored hair,
Preparing for the party, the rush
Of water that comes every morning,
Tickled pink that maybe today
It will get to meet Mr. Right.
He must be on his way, even in the form
Of a water frog.
She preens happily,
Her loops and curls, her solid curves
Carrying the milky substance
From here to there
While the tiles hum up to her,
"Cool, cool, keep it cool."
This is right, she smiles.
Beads jangle.
The faucet stirs.
She leans into her joints, prepared.

Mother Slug: 1977_Ink_Drawing by Carol Hershey

1977_Ink_Drawing_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

She holds up her egg,
Her greatest work, gazing
With a serene eye.
Spectacularly smooth and white,
It waits while she wonders
If she's given it just enough
Warmth, just enough motion,
Just enough of herself
For it to finally rumble and
Crack.
There are so many days
Ahead of the little bugger inside,
So many mouthfuls of air and earth.
She wants to set it gently down
And dance a slow jig.
She wants to sing "Once I was afraid,
I was petrified."
She gazes, wondering, at the
Simple, complex, intriguing
Egg
Her very own egg
That will someday walk away,
Most likely
Singing.