I am positively HOOKED on FFFFound.com!!! Oh My Gosh. It’s like a dizzying tumble down the rabbits hole. Once you start browsing images, the inspiration flows like champagne and it’s hard to pull yourself away from the endless eye candy. Good luck! Go in with a plan!
“Life Swirls” poem
Be gentle in the world,
People need kindness…
We are so many broken winged doves,
So many down trodden saints…
Great masses of starving orphans
Hungry for a smile or a scrap of grace;
To each their own private wounds…
But may the trail you stumble
One day end at a warm bed,
And a glass of milk…
And may you never lose sight of the sky…
“Day Break” poem
Steam rises of my soggy skin
And tumbles through the air
A sigh escapes from deep within
And weaves itself through tangled hair
The morning creeps across the earth
Song birds bathe in dew
I watch the day break’s painful birth
And all I think about is you.
The world begins again today
I sit still and see it start
Sun rays split the stony gray
And warm my frozen heart
Sleeping bumbles wake to life
They stretch their glossy wings
I’m reminded that me all have wings
And dreams and precious things…
“Green Pomegranates” poem
Now I lay me down to weep
Bleed my soul dry
Drowned the sheep.
Cut the wires that make me dance,
Bind my feet
And then my hands.
Break the mask that hides my face,
Suck down poison
Deny my race
Lick fruit from the serpent’s tongue,
Turn inside out
Then come undone.
Inhale that fire that sucks you dry
Lose an ear
So take an eye,
Bury peaches partly peeled
That freshly healed
Patch the tares with lies,
Cauterize nerve endings
Feed the flies
Cry out from crinkled lungs,
Tighten up your skin
Trap your fear inside a grin
“Blue Lion” poem
I’m layin’ low, stayin’ cool, but I know that you can tell
I’m tryin’ hard to keep my cool although its hell
And my head is bent, my eyes are straight, my steps are strong
And I may not slow, or show I know…but somethin’s wrong.
I’m cool to you, but in the blue my soul’s a fire
I’m lion strong all work day long, ‘cause I can’t afford to tire
I surround myself with vivid dreams, while resisting their attraction
My heart could thrive on other things, but now they’re just distraction
I taste no food, I sleep no winks, I swallow down my doubt
But secretly, behind my eyes, I’m wonderin’ which door is out
I will never hence take breath,
Nor give life
I shall not smile fortune,
Nor cry strife!
I take no more delight
In petty wonderment,
I cannot endure
‘Till all is spent
Paint thee grey,
From here I go…
To whence I may
My skin exists outside my soul
It lives in a world that judges,
It cannot hide, it cannot lie
It protects me, but disconnects me.
My skin keeps a journal of my life,
Moments detailed in dots and dashes
Rivers that run away from lashes
caves and cliffs, and knees to hips,
My tongue waving out words that fall heavy on deaf forests.
Birch bark grows in different patterns
but burn our branches and the inside is the same.
The soul of every tree has a yearning to exist as something free.
These days we all live in fear of where our seeds will have to grow,
And if they’ll ask us questions, with answers we dont know,
When every day begins with rain and ends with war
How can a tree teach a seed, to seek out something more?
My bark is my skin
It keeps hatred out, and keeps my thoughts in.
It seals us up tight, like revolving doors,
We look like we’re different, but mine tastes just like yours
and wrinkles like yours, and sweats in the sun.
Hiding veins that run north to south,
and pool blood into words that form in my mouth,
To attempt to express the things ive been taught.
Over hundreds of years,
Of sharing our blood and our words, and our tears…
8 different languages all on one street
So much to be said, and yet nobody speaks
“To dreams I Go” poem
Close your eyes
Let go of what grips you
Of what chases you and guilt trips you
Slip into sleep
Slip into sheets
Slip into down, and pajamas with feets
You don’t have to work so hard
You don’t have to please so much
You don’t have to do what it is that you do to be you when nothing seems true
You don’t have to lie
You don’t have to run
You don’t have hide when you cry, or laugh to have fun
Rest your heart
Relax and feel new, like you did at the start
Who cares if you’re pretty
Who cares if you’ve changed
Who cares how you dress or if you talk strange
Forget all the lessons
And all the advice
And enjoy that falling asleep feels so nice
I close my eyes,
and hold my breath,
and hope you’ll disappear…
And it wont be up to me
to tell you I don’t want you here.
my confidence is shaken,
my will is less than strong,
but if I choose to keep you
ill know the choice was wrong.
I hold you now so tightly,
Afraid you’ll slip away,
But it would have done us better
had you slipped off yesterday.
It drives me mad to think of you,
to love and hate you so…
It makes me wish you’d have your fill
And pack your things and go.
Dance with me oh seed pod, blowing in the wind
Frolic across the fields with me, be my friend
Teach me how to soar and glide with graceful ease
Show me the secrets of being weightless, and how to tease
Make me float along like you, make me light
Swirl the wind around me, lift me into flight
Oh silken fairy of the sky, weave your spell
Sweep me up and take me with you; I swear I’ll never tell
Hands caress skin
And heal wounds
Hands make love
And seal tombs
Hands bind people
And break bones
Slap high fives
And build homes
Hands write words
Bring babies to light
And stop fights
Hands shield eyes
And rip clothes
Hands cut ties
And kill foes
Hands feed mouths
And close doors
And pay whores
Hands illustrate speech
Scratch an itch
And catch fish
Hands paint faces
And climb trees
And collect fees
Hands pick flowers
And bury pets
And repay debts
Hands kneed dough
And make beds
And shave heads
Hands tickle ribs
And break falls
And Create art
Hands love together
But live apart
Getting The Last Bus
No one cried the day I left
No hearts broke
No ships crashed into the sea
I packed my things
And held my breath
And no one saw me leave but me.
The birds still sang
The sun still set
The neighbor’s cat still climbed its tree
And as I shuttered in my steps
You still ate lunch at half past three
I cry now, I sit at my kitchen table and sob. Big tears well up, watering my cheeks which plump like peaches…my lips are chewed and swollen. My lashes droop heavy like soggy black tree trunks. This anguish becomes my face. I’m flushed by passion, ravished by emotion…rosy cheeks, and swollen lips, and heavy lashes. My lover knows this face is not for love. That my eyes like clear blue sky in trysts, swirling hurricanes today. Even my set is not my own, my gate becomes another, my fingers work reversed….now that I cry.
Before, for years, I smiled. I swallowed little, round, blue bandages for my heartbreak. I laughed and made lists and took trips and wore violet….now I cry. Now I close my windows to the world and burst against the panes. The waves crash around my ears and drowned the sounds of children playing. I look like a woman in lust, like a child in tantrum…not like myself. I suppose my self has momentarily stepped away.
October 7, 2009 5:56 pm
It was announced earlier today that Irving Penn has passed away at the age of 92. The revered fashion photographer, known simply as Penn to those who worked with him, began shooting for Vogue in 1943 and over the course of his six-decades long tenure created some of the magazine’s most unexpected and unforgettable images. For more on Penn’s life and work, read The New York Times‘ obituary. Of course—and never more so than in this case—the proverbial power of an image speaks volumes. Here, a small selection of Penn’s iconic pictures.
LOS ANGELES (AFP) – Lindsay Lohan‘s widely panned appearance on Paris catwalks for luxury label could signal a shift away from high end brands seeking creative input from celebrities, analysts say.
Lohan was hired by Ungaro in September as an “artistic advisor” to the fashion house’s new chief designer Estrella Archs, with a brief to give the label a “cooler” look, according to president Mounir Moufarrige.
But the alliance got off to a catastrophic start with global critics trashing the brightly colored collection unveiled at Paris Fashion Week as a gaudy series of sartorial faux pas.
“When Lohan came out for a runway bow, her eyes were full of tears. And it’s easy to see why,” the Los Angeles Times sniped.
“After all the hullabaloo over her appointment a month ago, with some fashion insiders suggesting it was an insult to anyone who had ever really worked in design, it had to have been the walk of shame to end all.”
The universal savaging has left analysts asking if Lohan’s appointment and subsequent ridiculing may have marked a watershed moment for the industry.
While high street labels in Europe and the United States have forged a series of successful collaborations with the likes of Madonna and , Lohan’s foray into fashion appears to have been an unmitigated failure.
Steven Faerm, director at the prestigiousin New York, said he believed the trend towards fashion labels seeking celebrity input could be a sign of the recession-hit economy.
“While fashion has certainly gone in the direction of using celebrities for selling fashion, I think we very well may have seen the straw that broke the camel’s back with the appearance of Lohan for Ungaro,” Faerm told AFP.
“I think it is indeed an indication that some houses are doing all that it takes to stay afloat in this difficult economy.
“I personally find it a sad commentary on our society that a product can sell simply because a consumer has an affinity for a personality associated with the product rather than the viewing the product for what it truly is.
“We live in a world today where you can do anything once you brand your name, no matter what your qualifications are, and I find that unsettling.”
Wendy Bendoni, fashion director of Stylelens.com forecasting website, said meanwhile that as soon as Lohan’s appointment was announced “you could hear everyone who knows anything about fashion saying ‘what were they thinking?'”
“Usually ‘artistic advisor’ is something you hear if you were creating a private label for Macys — not a collection for Fashion Week in Paris.”,” she said. “This isn’t Target, Walmart or JCPenny’s — this is
“If anything this really hurt Ungaro relationship with their high-end luxury customers. Miley Cyrus wouldn’t even come to the show, even though Lindsay kept tweeting for her to ‘please come.’
“I just feel bad for the poor designer who took the job in the first place.”
Farah Chajin, an instructor of apparel design at California State University, said any collection would be judged on the designs themselves.
“The collection by Ungaro collaboration with Lohan was not successful, it lacked creativity and innovation to the fashion world,” Chajin said.
Nevertheless celebrities will continue to play a role as figureheads for Nicole Kidman as the face of adds glamour given the image she presents,” Faerm said.. “To have
“She was also hired to be ‘the face’ of the brand rather than have an active, creative role in the collection’s development.
“I think the backlash to Lohan is the idea that she does not elevate the brand’s heritage and does not elevate the creative process since she does not have proper training for such a monumental task.”
Bendoni echoed that view.
“I get the idea of celebrities endorsing brands but creating brands is a dangerous ground,” she said. “Do you really think all these celebrities are designing their own lines?
“I think fashion should remain for the most part up to designers to create. We need more Marc Jacobs, Tom Fords, Stella McCartneys, Donatella Versaces, Karl Lagerfelds…”
In a startling new documentary called Picture Me, model Sara Ziff and her former boyfriend co-director Ole Schell, expose the seedy recesses in the world of high fashion modeling; including those who turn a blind eye to it. In an interview published on Guardian.co.uk; Ziff, who began her career in modeling at the age of 14, recounts an early experience with a photographer who purported to be having trouble “picturing” what she would look like for the story he was shooting. Perversely, he coaxes the 14 year old girl out of first her shirt, and then her pants, leaving Ziff only in her “Mickey Mouse knickers and a sports bra”. She continues the story by adding; “ ‘We might need to see you without your bra,’ he told me. It was like he was a shark circling me, walking around and around, looking me up and down without saying anything. I did what he told me to. I was just eager to be liked and get the job. I didn’t know any better.” Sara’s first intentions in starting her video diary was not to expose the industry that was paying her hundreds of thousands of dollars. Early scenes from hundreds of hours of footage over five years, depict the lighter side of the business; but steadily, those images changed. Ziff began passing out cameras to other model friends and encouraged them to tell their stories as well. What emerged, were tales of the exploitation of young girls, sexual assault and a clear disregard for the well being of these objectified young women. “What’s shocking, listening to Ziff, is how prevalent, and how far up the fashion food chain, sexual exploitation goes. ‘Vulnerable girls are being put into a potentially predatory environment,’ says Ziff. What’s in the agency’s interest is not always best for the girl, and if she’s in a compromising situation, she doesn’t necessarily have anyone to turn to.” To protect themselves and other models, Ziff and a small contingent of her modeling peers are working together to speak out. Some of the models are working toward forming a union; campaigning for “better working conditions, holiday and sickness pay, protection in case of injury”. What I have included in this post is only the tip of the iceberg with this story. I highly recommend that you read the article from the guardian. There are many stories that I did not include in this review that I think you will find arresting; especially if you have either considered becoming a model or allowing your daughter to join the profession. I’m anxious to hear your thoughts, so please leave a comment.