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.