Peggy Reads Peggy

If you click on their title, you can hear me read a few recorded poems from my original collection of poetry, YOU BECKON. I don't read often, but whenever I have (or do) both Dungeon of My Imagination and Rhino Rising normally are extremely well received. I guess that's why I selected those two to share.

And the third, Gossip, happens to be one that I really like. I've been asked what in the world it's about, and for a while I was reluctant to try to explain it, but once I did the "ah" factor was so rewarding I became less reluctant.

So, here's the scoop on Gossip: Traveling across country on a train through the southwest there is an area in which there are these enormous rocks and boulders, the kind that you find wherever there are mountains or vast hills, but in this area, for what seems like a hundred miles there is absolutely NOTHING but flat land ... no place for these rocks and boulders to have come from. So that is what sparked my imagination ... the "where" of the origin of these southwestern rocks. The kind of unexplainable occurrence that might even have caused the constellations to resort to "gossip".

PS: If you want a copy of an autographed copy of YOU BECKON send me an email at plovewriter@yahoo.com or you can always purchase a copy from Amazon.com or Barnes & Nobel online.

PSS: Coming soon: USHER IN THE SUN

Hawice

The last couple of months have been incredibly difficult. I definitely did not think I'd be revisiting such a painful path so quickly, but less than a month ago I lost my only sister. It is still impossible for me to come to grips with the reality of that, and for now not accepting that reality entirely provides just a very small cushion to get me through each day.

I think I decided to make this entry tonight because there have been a series of things - good thing, very positive things - that have occurred over the last week or so that are the types of things that I would have picked up the telephone to share with her. She would have been as excited or thrilled or hopeful about them as I, if not more so, just as I was with all her victories, adventures, and achievements.

There have been a few other things, flashes of frustration, shock at some newsworthy issue, or some stupidly funny circumstance that I could have only gotten the kind of satisfaction or closure I needed by sharing the incident with her that I obviously wasn't able to. The pain of that void defies all words in any earthly language. It was an emotional pain so great my whole body had to get involved to try to handle because my heart and mind simply couldn't absorb the whole assault.

But there is something else that is incredible. It is that as awesome as the pain of losing her is, the pain of having had her in my life, in my world, as my very own big sister is such a thrill that the knowledge and memory of that, of her is so utterly powerful it has had the ability to assuages the pain and return me to a place of endurance washed in thoughts of her.

So, yes, I'd love to tell her about the short play that was published in a literary journal today, or mention the Writer's Digest article that included a little spill from me on my poetry collection, YOU BECKON, or breathlessly tell her blow by blow about the new opportunities to produce my plays, but I can't. As time goes on acceptance of that will take hold, but not just yet. That's why tonight I needed to tell you about her and about this. Tonight missing her feels like fire.

Need Your Feedback

Which of the three possible covers for my next volume of poetry do you respond to best? You can comment here or send me an email with your comments. Thanks!

Yesterday's Dream Becomes Tomorrow's Reality

Whom we celebrate on January 19, 2009 and whom we will inaugurate on January 20, 2009 are proof positive that dreams do come true.

Inauguration of Hope

Copyright Peggy Eldridge-Love - 2009

Look what happened when they took the chains off and gave us access

Look where we went with the width and the breath of the wisdom

given us

by He who created the universe.

When the doors opened we rushed through them,

Not to pilfer, but to drink from the fountains that used to tell us ‘no’.

Those who came before us bent their backs willingly for us

To step up on them and reach a little higher.

Those who had the vision knew that sometimes it would require

The very life they lived for a few to make it over to the other side.

When we got there, the mantle finally passed our way,

We did not scream for retribution or blood gifts to right the wrong,

We came with hope and change, promise and dreams for all.

Suppose there had never been chains to contain us

Suppose we had always been privy to the dream

But suppose only for a moment since the path before us starts today.

All Things Work Together for Good

"The Hat" (Watercolor - Copyright Peggy Love)

This has been a remarkable year, a blessed year. I am most grateful. Funny how one simple things can really have a great impact on so much. This time last year I was commenting about 2007, which had been a most challenging year for me. While making note of those things I was grateful for I made mention of something that was to result in a very uncomfortable situation. Perhaps, in retrospect, it was one of the best lessons and experiences of my life.

It was as though that event started a number of chain reactions that resulted in door after door after door swinging open for me. So much so, that on one occasion someone remarked that the way things were unfolding was "synchronicity". Duh?

I believe it really resulted from my need to understand mindsets, to delve deeper into the world of art and its mechanics, and my genuine desire to better comprehend what mattered beyond what just really mattered to me. I find I am ending 2008 light years beyond where I started it and I am absolutely certain I would not have been privy to the strides and quantum leaps of knowledge and wisdom that I believe I have had I not made that faux pas.

A Cup Full of Wisdom

I spent the day at home recovering from a nasty bout with a traveling virus. It seems most people that I have encountered recently have had it in some form or another. Regardless of the amount of vitamins C and E I've been taking, it took hold for a couple of unpleasant days. But, all was not lost. No, actually, much was gained.

This little window of downtime gave me an opportunity to just stop and to focus on some of the thoughts that have been vying for my time that I've ignored. It gave me an opportunity to be brutally honest with myself about what I think about a number of things that I have perhaps preferred not to examine too closely. I realized that in many ways I am far more at peace with 'me' than I have ever been, and that I have also - without even being aware of it - released a large quantity of 'things' that I once allowed to take up mental, emotional, spiritual, and even physical space unwisely.

I found myself laughing somewhat at the notions I have had, since I was a wee little girl, that surely I am royalty and that some miraculous fate awaits me just around the next corner, most certainly ridden in on or drug in by an enormous white horse. Laughed because as far-fetched as that notion may have been it somehow etched itself on my psyche and has been a part of that subliminal drive that has caused me to throw open door after door after door in search of my yet-to-be-found royal bounty.

The other day I was excitedly telling someone about the history of a beautiful pottery cup that had landed mysteriously in our cupboard. I knew its manufacture, the time frame when it was made, all about its particular trademark on the bottom, and its probable value were it to be offered for sale. The person I was talking to commented with surprise at the breathe of my knowledge on that subject and I immediately responded "oh, pottery and porcelain from that period is a passion of mine". The return comment was "you sure have a lot of passions". Before I knew it my response had leaped from my lips: "I do." I said. "I live every single moment of my life with passion."

So, I guess I will continue to believe, with passion, that I will see a cloud of dust rising on the horizon caused by the determined hoofs of a wonderful white stallion bringing me my long awaited royal treasure chest. I guess I will always believe in fairy tales and happy endings. I guess I will always believe that life is to be lived with every ounce of hope and dream, desire and energy you can muster. I know I will always believe in God's unmerited favor.

I'm glad this nasty little virus stopped me long enough for me to realize how truly blessed I really, really am. Until it did, the rigours of my recent days had begun to cause me to cheat myself of my lust for life. It almost had me thinking my cup was half empty rather than half full.

The Equator's Sun

Is there a perfect order to life? I believe there is, and even in those moments when all feels chaotic, when there are occurances that defy any ability I have to comprehend or embrace them, I still believe they are divinely ordained for the life I have been given to live.

I thought about that as it relates to President Elect Barack Obama. Having heard him repeat his own story and that of his mother and father - how they met, married, gave him life, and then parted - I wondered if they perhaps instinctively knew theirs was not just a coming together by chance, not just an ordinary girl and boy, man and woman relationship, but if they knew in their innermost beings something far beyond their own understandings had been manifest.

Those thoughts became this poem. I hope you receive it in the spirit I have written it.

The Equator's Sun

He is a kiss of the equator's sun against a cool Pacific breeze.
Intended, yet a surprise, come too soon,
but right on time.

Neither knew what drew them,
any more than they knew what
repelled them

only that once
upon a time
love demanded their obedience.

He was the gift left unwrapped when the guest had gone.
Intended, yet a surprise, come too soon,
and right on time.

He is the kiss of the equator's sun,
the hint of the days
before

and the days to come
in the simplicity
of his understanding

love
demands
our obedience.

He is the sound of a cool
Pacific breeze,
the kiss of the equator's sun,

an intention
come too soon
yet right on time.

Peggy Eldridge-Love ©2008 – All Rights Reserved

A Moment in Time

And then the clock struck 10 (at least where I live) and the whole world changed ... for ever!

Truth Be Told

It pains me deeply to see the very core and fabric of who people are twisted and used as weapons against them. I stand back and watch in amazement as people that I know do not intentionally wish to cause anyone true harm become like a once beloved pet bitten by a rabid skunk tragically becoming something dangerous and deadly, foaming at the mouth with the throes of poison that has invaded mind and spirit.

It is so difficult for me to accept that these “good people” are so deafened by the rhetoric of divisiveness that they cannot recognize that it is they who will lose the most. What they fear most, what they want to fight against with flailing arms and wild punches, is not that non-existent enemy that a bevy of shrewd, soulless front men are trying to convince them want to rob them of the rights we all hold most dear. Surely, I keep thinking, they cannot and will not fall for those snake oil tricks again. Yet, I see far too many being drawn in and pulled under, and I know that the only thing they’ll be offered when they are desperately trying to make their way back to shore will be a double-edged sword.

How is it even remotely possible that one who speaks of faith, who has deep abiding faith in a loving God, could ever be deluded by merchants of hate regardless of what those opportunistic merchants label it? Whatever happened to discernment, to the discerning spirit that we all have if we will pause and listen? It hasn’t changed – it doesn’t lie – it will not compromise. It is still there prodding and tugging at heart strings that want to ignore it and the truth is it will not rest. That is the piper that must ultimately be paid.

Though you may exercise a will that is yours to chose because it feels good to strike out, feels good to malign, feels good to hear someone making snappy, rhetorical punch lines – the kind of punch lines you wish you had thought of on the playground as a kid, or perhaps even now in the lunchroom or even the boardroom at work – dark, ugly, cutting words, words that minimize and castrate, belittle and disparage – words that your inner most being knows are not valid or true or justified…words that in the long run will cost you what you can never pay and not just you – but your children and your children’s children, too.

We don’t always know what’s right, but somehow we do always know what’s wrong. Take a minute to examine the choices you are making and your reasons for making them in this election. If your reasons are wrong and you know it – to thine ownself be true and do what’s right. There is still time.

Rising from the 'Free Write" Ashes

I had to create a fictional character today for a writing exercise. A "free write" fictional being with no connection to anything and anyone but my "free moment" imagination. Don't know why I'm sharing this unedited, straight from the hip particular result, with all its flaws, but I am.

Morris Hetch, nearing sixty-five, six foot two inches still, walks across the pine floor to the crackling fire place and warms his hands. Funny how cold his hands seem to stay. His eyes travel to the white oblong alabaster box on the mantle and he wonders about his will power. It has been over 48-hours since he reached for the box, took one of the Benson & Hedges and lit it with the tip of a rolled up piece of newspaper he stuck dangerously into the fire. It was as if he knew each cigarette was as potentially lethal as the embers that fly precariously from the burning newsprint.

He’s strong today. There will be no cigarettes. As strong as he was for over fifteen years, until just this last week. His stomach makes an unattractive noise. It is becoming far too familiar as is the discomfort that accompanies it. He plans to make an appointment, go see Melissa, Melissa Sturgis, the woman who has been his physician since his accident, but he knows he’ll put it off, forever if possible. It isn’t that he’s afraid of what he may learn; it is more that he’s afraid of what he may not – about Melissa.

His hands warmed now, he makes his way to the back room where he has set up his small desk, ignoring the pain in his knees, and the sharp mind wrenching pain in the center of his back. He slept wrong, again, and for an hour or so he’ll be reminded of the fact. But it is the fact of what lies before him on the edge of the desk that is most agonizing. He has no choice but to attend to it today. No choice at all.

Content copyright © 2008 by Peggy Eldridge-Love. All rights reserved.
This content was written by Peggy Eldridge-Love.

Don't You Dare Talk Back Mama!

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harveysart

I saw a child in a supermarket recently with arms folded tightly across her tiny chest, her head bowed in full-combat defiance, and her bottom lip stuck out so far and apparently clutched so tightly it was the size of a tulip bulb and deep dark purple. This little one was mad!

I watched as her mother sought to reason with her about why the object of her desire was not something they needed to acquire. I watched as the mother explained, cajoled, and pulled out all the diplomatic tactics in her playbook to get Missy to understand. Missy wasn’t giving an inch.

Suddenly I realized what I was really watching as I saw Missy’s mom’s shoulders sag, her continence fall to a level of self-defeated disgust, and I saw the lines of bitter stress etched deep into her far-too-young-for-those-lines-to-be-there face. As Missy’s mother reached for the box of multi-colored yuck cereal and handed it to Missy who snatched it from her mother’s grip and threw it in the basket, I realized I was watching the demise of family, the loss of structure, and the end of a great deal of hope for America.

Missy is already running this country. All the little Missy’s who have been handed the reins and given their heads to take us wherever it is they think we ought to go now rule -- poor babies.

No wonder we are a nation in crisis.

Putting Meat on the Bones

The first thing I did when this particular idea took hold was to check Amazon to see if there were any books that already were using the title that I felt would be perfect for this new story. There were a couple, also a couple of variations on the title, and then a book or two that was using a portion of the title which apparently just came up with the title search.

Okay, so at least the title is not totally seminal. What about the theme?

I searched again, and thus far there is absolutely nothing that seems to have gone my direction with this set of circumstances! No where could I find this theme (that is blowing my mind) touted elsewhere.

Wonderful! It looks like I've found virgin turf.

So, now comes the tough part, the fleshing it out to see if it is strong enough to withstand what will need to occur over the next several months, perhaps even years to bring it in for a landing! I think this one is solid, I think it has the meat it needs to cover the bones of a "good concept." I'm excited because I am almost certain this one can stand and withstand whatever is tossed at it and I can't wait to wrap my mind around it totally!

Now honestly, isn't this what every writer lives for -- no matter how often it happens?

Keep the Faith: A Memoir is Slated for August Release

Ever now and again I am intrigued by what might lay between the covers of a memoir and one such an intrigue is slated for release August 29, 2008. This book is entitled Keep the Faith: A Memoir and it is written by Faith Evans herself, with contributions by author Alyia S. King.

For years the name Faith Evans has been synonymous with that of her late ex-husband Notorious B.I.G., but it appears that this memoir will introduce us to the long before and the ten long years after woman who has lived and continues to live a life that is worthy of its own recognition.

So, I'm awaiting the dropping of the new memoir and I have a fairly solid feeling once I pick it up I won't be able to put it down until I read the last page.

What's On the Wall?

Carol Karotis, Gallery Director, and Cathy Denning, Art Intern - Kansas City Art Institute, hang the current exhibit, Native Son: A Retrospective of the Works of Leroy W. Allen at the Kaw Valley Arts & Humanities Gallery

Keep your eyes peeled and glued to the TV while watching the new reality show, Family Foreman! Don't know if you'll see it, but there is a Leroy Allen painting in the background. Early on the producer's of the show contacted us to let us know it was a part of his collection and to get proper clearances should it be included. Great!

The painting itself is very poignant because it, like a number of Leroy's works, had special family significance. In this instance, the picture is of a country church and several of its patrons as they are leaving a Sunday service. A couple of the patrons are deep in conversation! The church is the church our grandfather attended -one he rode his horse to every Sunday and tied his horse up to a nearby tree until time to ride him home again. Our grandfather was also the subject of another major one of Leroy's works that is currently a part of a national tour. Our grandfather was from, and the church and patrons in the painting in George's collection, are located in Mississippi.

So make sure to catch the show! It comes on Wednesday nights on the TVLand Channel. Picture in the background or no, it is a really fun reality show!

Exhibit Opens Tomorrow

This show opens tomorrow evening, July 11th, at the Kaw Valley Arts and Humanities Gallery in Kansas City, Kansas! This is the second exhibit of my late brother's works that I've coordinated. I am excited because this one is in our hometown.

Wish you could be there! Come to think of it, why can't you be?

Your Turn

Copyright Peggy Love - Charcoal

It would be so easy to miss it. In the midst of it, as it whirls around you, virtually consumes you, there is the possibility you may not understand or recognize its appearance or its purpose. It is change and you are dead off in the middle of it. We all are.

There is a reason for all of the upheaval, the climatic changes, the economic shocks, the social and political never ending dramas that keep us on the edge. We became complacent, got socked in and desensitized to even our own internal cries for introspection and renewal. As a result we have allowed our authenticity to implode in quiet little episodes that threaten not just us individually, but everything.

Minus the chaos that has risen up all around us we might not lift up our heads and at least consider what is going on. It is all being shaken so that we might be tumbled out of our apathetic denial that we are who will and who must make a difference.

Wake up and do something! We need you!

American Poets

Now this is exciting.* An oil portrait of me painted by Didi Menendez has been added to her intriguing series entitled American Poets.

In this collection, Didi captures an unusual view of a variety of contemporary American poets that is as telling of their individual essence as are the words they write. I am so honored to be included in this series.

*Flash Update: I just checked to see what new portraits had been added and, if you blush easily, be prepared - Didi has added a most unexpected twist to her American Poets series! But, as with all things Didi, it is very tasteful.

Beg You and Pay You: The Oxymoron

Copyright: Leroy Allen "Ma'am" (Tribute to P.Polk) Charcoal & Chalk -All Rights Reserved

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Breaking News!
The migration has just taken place - after nearly a year!
As stated below: He moves mountains! Believe it !
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If you visited my personal web site recently and thought I either abandoned it or have become very lazy about having its content updated you are wrong. What is afoot is a terrible situation with the web host that involves countless domains like mine that can no longer access the web site itself to make changes.

For nearly a year now they have been in the throes of "migration" which very obviously has now become a major disaster for both them and countless numbers of us who have remained loyal trying to ride out the storm of transition.

The obvious question may be why not just change web hosts. The honest answer is the quagmire that others who finally tired of the wait have encountered in attempting to make that switch. Can you spell a n-i-g-h-t-m-a-r-e? Then you have the answer to the issue of change. The cure has more often than not been more painful than the current dilemma. Irrevocable loses of content, domains, and more have been alleged and the anguish is palatable among those caught in this circumstance.

I have been with this particular host for six years and have loved the ease of management for the site. It was perfect for me initially as a novice, seat-of-the-pant grassroots, and guerrilla self-promoter and continued to work well as I grew. I recommended them to anyone who would listen.

I have sought to be logical, patient, and reasonable in all my interactions as I've sought diligently to get my own personal situation resolved. It was excruciating that I was not able to post anything regarding two major art exhibitions that I had occurring and even more painful that I couldn't post newspaper links to information about me, or show new creations or whatever.

I even swallowed my pride and begged on a number of occasions. I really, really don't like to have to beg and pay you too. That goes against my grain, but since I'd already paid for the period of time we were in and I knew any thoughts of a refund were out of the question I just humbled myself and crawled time and time again. But, a couple of days ago, when I saw the charge for the new service period was arbitrarily processed against my credit card early I lost my cool.
I am no longer cool with it, patient, or tolerant. I want it resolved. For me that means praying about it first - telling Jesus on them for real (smile). It is a perhaps surprising confession of faith, but I don't take it lightly at all. He moves mountains for me and I expect Him to move this one.
I'll let you know soon.

Stage, Beads and Dolls

The photos are a few of my jewelry creations from the recent exhibit "She-Art". I've allowed myself a tiny hiatus the last few weeks hoping to catch my breath. I think I am all rested and ready to go once more now.

Next up, I'm working on a new exhibit of my brother, Leroy Allen's, works in the very near future. I'll post details soon.

Next up for my own works is a workshop, Doll-Making: The Healing Art, with Ned Ra Bonds in late June at the Robert Frazier Gallery. This will be the first in a series of exciting workshops and retreats we have planned. More on this soon also.



Something else that is really exciting is the possibility of a collaborative effort on a stage play - a musical (!!!) - that makes my heart thunder! Talk about serendipity ... the way this collaborative relationship came about is a tale all its own. Something tells me that given half a chance this project is destined to be huge!




Email plovewriter@gmail.com for custom design information.

Photos courtesy of the artist. All Rights Reserved.

K.C. Lyric Opera World Premiere - "John Brown"

I attended a wonderful reception this evening (at the Robert Frazier Gallery of Contemporary Art) for the the world premier of the Kansas City Lyric Opera's presentation of "John Brown". As a part of that reception we were given a preview of the performances and it promises to be breathtaking.

If you are in Kansas City it is a "must catch" Opera that I think will be life altering. If you are not in Kansas City may I suggest you consider a quick visit to take this one in.

John Brown is slated to be played by Baritone James Maddalena. Fredrick Douglass by Baritone Donnie Ray Albert. The dates are May 3 - May 11, 2008. (Lyric Opera Ticket office 816-471-7344.)

Visit, too, the exhibit at the Robert Frazier Gallery that coincides with this presentation. Art by Leroy and Michelle Beasley, Michael Toombs, Pellom McDaniels III, NedRa Bonds, and Sherry Mirador (to name a few) specifically commissioned for this event is on display.

A final treat at tonight's reception was the introduction of one of John Brown's direct decendants. She was quite pleased that an opera in his honor is debuting, and I agree, it is a wonderfully amazing thrill.