Poetry and personal blog – Spilling my guts to strangers

Archive for the ‘Art’ Category

Feeling My Way Around Mexico

IMG_0306 - CopyThis is not an extensive travelogue and it doesn’t cover all I saw during my trip, but rather these are some really subjective impressions of traveling in and around Mexico City, Guanajuato, and Puebla recently with my 24-year-old daughter. She is such a private person, and so far the only way she has allowed me to show her image on this blog is through this caricature a wonderful artist did for us. She’s beautiful and as the portrait suggests, she looks young for her age. She’s a sweetheart but don’t let appearances fool you: She’s also a tough cookie.

Before getting to Mexico, I had a feeling that it would be a life-altering trip for me and I wasn’t wrong. In addition to wanting to see my daughter, I was well overdue to shake up my routine, get away from worries, clear my head, and just relax. Being around my daughter’s energy was a huge factor in helping bring me back in balance.

The Guantajuato mountainside

The Guantajuato mountainside

At first, I was a bit nervous about the trip because my Spanish is not very good. However, it’s true that when you lose one sense, such as sight or hearing, your other senses get stronger. In this case,  (more…)


On Mondrian 2 (dear heart)

Piet Mondrian. Broadway Boogie-Woogie. 1942-43 Courtesy of Olga's Gallery

Piet Mondrian. Broadway Boogie-Woogie. 1942-43
Courtesy of Olga’s Gallery

dear heart

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2013

On Mondrian

Piet Mondrian - Composition with Red, Yellow, Blue and Black; 1921 (www.abcgallery.com)

This all means something.

There’s a big red box–
Big, red,
And red stands for life, for blood …
No, madness. No,
Red is angry.
But the yellow rectangles
Are happy and excited
To be here,
So are gray and white,
And those last two hug the red
Because they like the way it smells.
The blue wishes it were red.

The black box,
Well, it’s hard to see
But there are people in there
Walking around–
Souls trapped in midnight.
Their hands reach out
But never find the orienting wall.
Every space is bigger in the dark;
The air, closer; and every sound
A stiff breeze drying out
Wide open, useless eyes.
The people push each other down
When they touch.

No fear is greater than that found
In the absence of light
And it’s not the box that’s dark,
It’s their hearts and that’s what
This all means.


NaPoWriMo Day 24. The NaPoWriMo prompt was to write a poem that responds to a work of art.

Please visit this list of my poet friends who are also doing the poem-a-day challenge. They are worth the look. I’m inspired by them daily. Contact me if you want to be added to the list.

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2012

1 + 1: “Looking for Guest Posts” Edition

Friends, Writers, Poets: Lend me your words! I want to shake things up around here!

Whether we’re blogging buddies or if this is your first visit, I’m open!

Wouldn’t your blog post enjoy a change of scenery? There is so much creative energy flowing in the blogiverse, I’d be honored to host your piece. I have a few writing projects going that are taking time away from blogging, but I still want to keep things fresh.

This a personal/poetry blog, but I write about a lot of topics. Would you would be interested in writing a guest post about the following:

– Personal experiences
– A poem
– A short story
– The writing life (any genre; thoughts, advice, tips)
– The arts
– Relationships
– Gender roles
– Armchair philosophy

New friends and old:
DM me on Twitter


Message me on Facebook
Sweepy Jean

or email me

Oh, and look me up (Sweepy Jean) on Google +

P.S. This is a standing offer. No expiration date!

P.S.S Don’t forget to play 1 + 1 Wednesday (see below)!


Every week, I invite you to go to the comments section and share two words on any theme whatsoever.

Your two words can be simple, complex, or completely random. Say something important, or make no sense whatsoever. Feel free to comment as many times as you want with two-word combinations.

No restriction on language except no slurs against race/ethnicity or sexual orientation. Such comments will not be approved or will be deleted as soon as I’m able.

Need an example of how to play? Click here to see last week’s 1 + 1 in action!

Become a fan of  1 + 1 at http://www.facebook.com/1plus1wednesday and invite your friends to join, too!

Have fun!

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2011

Religion, Part Three: Poetry as Religion

It’s been a little while since I last posted but I needed the sabbatical to clear my head, think.

I don’t like my posts to be too long, but I think this one will be longer than usual, as there is a lot involved and this is very important to me. Whoever reads this can glean what they want from it. I hardly know where to start and I know I haven’t covered it all. These are just my personal thoughts if you care to know them and not meant to be imposed on anyone.

From hell to nonconformity.
When I was taught Islam, I was told that if you believed any of the teachings, then they all must be true, and if you don’t believe in part of it, then you’re a nonbeliever. (more…)

Polite Conversation

We are probably at our most human when we are naked, sick, or otherwise emotionally or physically vulnerable. Yet we spend so much energy hiding these real or perceived vulnerabilities, to the point where there are just some things people don’t want to hear or talk about.

I can’t help but think of Mexican artist Frida Kahlo. A fascinating figure in her own right whose paintings are stunningly beautiful, she may not have received the acclaim she deserved in her lifetime because she was married to famed muralist Diego Rivera. Much of what I know about Frida I learned from my time spent at an amazing Web site, Frida Kahlo Fans. It’s well worth a visit. There was a 2002 movie called Frida, that I have not seen yet, for which Salma Hayek was nominated for an Oscar.

Frida was a victim of a horrific traffic accident in her late teens that left her physically and emotionally scarred. It was from that experience that she began painting. (more…)

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