Sticky Note Sketch #10 – Blue Layers

Here’s the latest Sticky Note Sketch: #10 – Blue Layers. If you like what you see, my art is now available at Eclectic Emily’s Emporium via


iphone pics 267

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Seconds drag into minutes and hours
I stare as shadows climb the walls
Damned by a strange elusive power
Great Morpheus ignores my call
Still I stubbornly seek for…SLEEP!


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First Flakes

First Flakes

The first flakes fell today.
They came down friendly,
Dusting the ground like powdered sugar.
Four of us went out and tasted them on our tongues.
They planted kisses on our cheeks and noses.
Tiny fractals glistened in our hair.
We inhaled promises hanging in the clouds
Of chilly nights, twinkling lights,
Men made of ice and angels outlined by it.
The anticipation made my heart sing.

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Yes, this is what I did with my Saturday morning . . .


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Sticky Note Sketch #9 (Worlds)

Infinite worlds with infinite possibilities . . .

Sticky Note Sketch #9 - Worlds.jpg

Love this design? Now you can order prints and swag from my Emporium. Click here to check it out!

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What Is a Dream

what is a Dream? a wish? a sigh?
a wistful look at days gone by?
a feathered thing, afraid to fly;
weighed down by the doubt in life. . .
bravely fighting for the chance to try?

what is a Dream? opportunity? need?
a selfish craving resulting from greed?
a noble, heart wrenching hurt that bleeds;
within the soul who quietly seeks . . .
wandering through both valleys and peaks?

what is a Dream? a whisper? a wall?
does it contain form or substance at all?
it cries and beckons, but I’m afraid of the call.
can I stretch myself out of this ball . . .
out of this comfort zone if I crawl?

what is a Dream? a vision? a claim?
once achieved, does it dissolve or remain?
is it a melody I am destined to play,
and sing, and dance, and live in my way. . .
I’ve thought and thought but the question stays.

What is a Dream? What Is a Dream

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Awed by Autumn

Every poet sings of Spring,
But I am awed by Autumn.
Leaves dance, swirling, flashing
To tunes carried on cool crisp air.
Brittle bursts of fiery red and gold
Forstall the sleep of snowy blankets,
And the year holds its bated breath.
Nostalgia nods its invisible head.
Memories mull in the mind like cider.
Reflections ripple in waves and break
Into understanding and contentment.
Friends and family cram together
Like living cornucopias in small houses.
Literal and metaphysical fruit ripens
And is gathered for fuel against
The cold waiting winter that approaches.

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