Joya Fairchild
Valley Center, CA, USA
Joya FairchildValley Center, CA, USA |
|
How fortunate to be born in the mid-western State of Ohio, city of Cincinnati, where the Arts enjoyed and sustained a high priority. The Art Museum offered Saturday classes and at age ten, I attended these sessions in the company of Master painters and colossal sculptures. It was at the Art Academy, adjacent to the Museum, that I studied and am an Alumni. I worked for Gibson Art as an artist until marriage took me away to California where I feel as a native as we have lived here for 46 years and raised three children, plus a lot of dogs. I was a member of the Torrance Art Group in my early years and the camaraderie of these fine talented artist/writers, established my growth as an artist in oil painting. You must wonder when I ever wrote poetry, that was at an early age also, but I am first an artist, however, both pulse within the same spirit. I create poetry in a quiet time... born of one line inspiration, to delve within, perhaps the other lines will manifest... but always, always is the joy of that first line. |
CopanI stood, on Copan's hallowed land,I heard the ancient hosts... softly, as a singing wind... came the voices of these gentle ghosts. I, stood there, amid the Stelas high, I, faced their ball-court where warriors died. From a point beyond the pyramids crown, as a whisper, as a multitude, the Mayan sighed. |
Raven Site RuinSo it seems, Raven Site was home to AnasaziAn ancient people vanished unto time, My eyes did view their ruins with dismay, appalled by restorations disarray-- From force within, stinging voices veers, of violent wrath, that pierced my opened ears, As a tendril twined together in a terrible rage; stunned was I of utterances from another age. They struck my being in howling spectres anger, the plundering of sacred grounds history--- again, an ancient race made known to me, that energy remains thru aura's mystery. |
Earth's RefugeeI I saw their faces, the hungry, destitute and forlorn, this river of people that tread a continent war-torn. Children clutched to mothers breasts, deeply throed, thus, vacant eyes devoid of spirits abode... Empty as a black nights cloak, despair of hope, mercilessly treading regions, sanctuaries sought, yet remote. II Earth's sorrow ponders the crime of her Nations. That firmament in cosmos order endures with patience... this third planet from her source, in harsh judgments face, will surely spew this Specie out... and seek another race. |
MoonglowMoonglow, empty as death's cold shroud, fingers Earth's surface, a pale lustrous cloud of the Huntress... in her stealthy quest for game, virginous Diana.. hallowed in moons cool flame. Stupendous... mistress of night, outshines all heavens eyes, while patient goddess Luna, seeks the path where Roe hides, Spring forth! The chase.. the chase, pursue! bring down the Doe, swiftly sings the arrow from her silver winged bow. Aloof in distant splendor, hangs sightless moonscape, Aurora's nails scratch nights curtain and dawn overtakes, Diana, languid stretches forth and yawns at twilight's fold, and steps beyond Aurora's realm, this bewitching night foretold. |