Picture it and write Poetry Women

Picture it and write – The mysterious queen


This Is An Entry for This Weeks Picture it and Write

Please see Ermilia’s Blog  at the Link Below for all contributions and details of the event

Ermilia’s Picture It and Write


“Anne Boleyn was rather tall of stature, with black hair and an oval face of sallow complexion, as if troubled with jaundice. She had a projecting tooth under the upper lip, and on her right hand, six fingers. There was a large wen under her chin, and therefore to hide its ugliness, she wore a high dress covering her throat.” – Nicholas Sander “The Rise and Growth of the Anglican Schism”.

Is she beauty?

Or is she beast?

The one who stole his heart

Her soul as dark as her veil

Yet her voice as sweet as a lark

Henry the VIII second wife

The one who bewitched the King

A mystery never to be solved

The mystery of Anne Boleyn

by Gemini

Love Poetry

Missing you

miss you
The light fragrance of your hair
The smoothness of your skin
Being held in your arms
Covered by your limbs

These things I miss
When we break for a while
and not forgetting
Your sexy smile

Your whispers in my ear
and hands through my hair
Those tactile gestures
That show that you care

The way you say my name
or call me babe
and when you profess
Our love will never fade

Yet while we are apart
We know its not forever
In our hearts and minds
We are always together

Fiction Poetry Reading

Dear Miss Austen


Whilst catching up on a little Jane Austen (my favorite author), I recalled a poem I wrote a while ago and published on an old blog….

Dear  Miss Austen…

I wish you were here today

I’m sure we would be friends

I would express my true admiration

Of that I’d not pretend

We could write a pretty letter

Of our devoted love

Or would you email me?

Perhaps that would be good

The words would be the same

Straight from the heart

But you would probably say

‘The ink is more of Art’

I would wear your dresses

You could borrow mine

Walking down the street

Ladies oh so fine

Thank you for your novels

Your poems and your letters

I know with your help

My writing will get better


Dreams Love Poetry

In your arms


You think I sleep as you touch my face
but I only dream when i’m awake
So I lay here in your arms so safe
safe and warm in your embrace

You hold me tight, I hardly breathe
your legs entwined around my knees
Come closer my love, closer please
and hold me close, till I fall asleep

and when we wake at the call of dawn
I’m feeling safe, loved and warm
I know my love my dream came true
for all these years I dreamed of you



Art Women

Women in Art ~ Day 5 ~ Artists of today

Today in my ‘Women in Art ‘ week I am giving some bang up to date exposure, yet still very talented artists.  You never know, one day you may be saying  ”I saw it first on Gemini’s blog” .

The first is a painting for a lovely blog friend of mine Benjamin Prewitt .  He has a wonderful collection of art on his blog, so please visit his page.  I just love the colors and texture in his paintings and I think the color and curves in ”The Green Girl” below create a beautiful calming mood, with the female form being part of the main focus.  I am no expert art critique, and I really believe art should speak for itself and be open to self interpretation.  Benjamin has kindly given me a quote for his painting as you can see below.


”A story of history and birth. A story of strength and restriction. A message of perseverance in the face of subjectivity and objectivity.  When the dust settles are we not all made of simple bits that when composed into a larger picture create a thing of great beauty and respect.”-Benjamin Prewitt.

Thank you Benjamin for this and the pleasure of your art.


In the collage below, Ellie Collins from the university of Exeter, explores the stereotype of ”the perfect body”.

Collage by Ellie Collins, featured in ”Expose” , University of Exeter magazine.
Click the pic for the article

“This piece is centered around the idea of perfection, the ‘ideal body’ and the way stereotypes of women have been continually portrayed throughout art history, and the media today. Women are under continual pressure to look a certain way, often resorting to eating disorders, plastic surgery and other drastic measures to conform, changing their bodies in a desperate desire to obtain this perfect Barbie figure.” -Ellie Collins.


Alex Hook Krioutchkov , born in Russia in 1966 and studied Art in Russia and England.  Alex has enjoyed travelling and exploring painting experiences in the countries of ancient civilisations like India, Nepal, Egypt and Turkey, incorporating colorful, exotic cultures which have inspired the artist for a number of ‘oriental canvases.

He has lived in Mallorca, Spain since 2000 and exhibits much of his work there now.  He has also exhibited in the US and the UK.

Madona of India
Madona of India, Alex Hook Krioutchkov
Alex Hook 2
From his nude collection
Alex Hook Krioutchkov

I just love the sensuality in his nude paintings and I can see a trip to Palma, Majorca, Spain coming up in the foreseeable future  to visit his Art gallery.

I hope you have enjoyed my post today of modern day artists who have each portrayed women in art in their own wonderful and unique way.

Thank you



Women in Art ~ Day 3 ~ Botticelli

I couldn’t do a ”women in art” theme without featuring some of the wonderful paintings by Botticelli from the Renaissance period which can be traced back to Italy as far back as the late 13th century.

Sandro Botticelli (c1445-1510)  was an Italian painter of the early Renaissance. Among his best known works were ‘The Birth of Venus” and ”Primavera”.

It is said that Botticelli never married and suffered unrequited love for Simonetta Vespucci, a married noblewoman. According to popular belief, she had served as the model for ‘The Birth of Venus’ and recurs throughout his paintings, despite the fact that she had died years earlier, in 1476. Botticelli’s wish to be buried at her   in the Church of Ognissanti in Florence was carried out in 1510.

The Birth Of Venus (1485-86), by Sandro Botticelli, currently in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence

I love that the naked women portrayed in Bottecelli’s time were curvy and voluptuous.  The artists and their patrons liked their women naked in the paintings  and with a bit of meat on their bones. I like to think that the skinny models of this period would have been told to go home and eat a few slap up meals!


From naked voluptuousness to fully clothed and modest  ”Annunciation” was commissioned in 1489 by the church of the Florentine convent of Cestello which is now known as Santa Maria Maddalena de’Pazzi.

The Annunciation, also known as the Cestello Annunciation, Botticelli, circa 1489-1490, housed Uffizi Gallery of Florence.

Underneath the painting on its original frame are words in Latin from St. Luke’s Gospel 1:35 “The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee.” (Wikipedia).


”Primavera” also known as ”Allegory of Spring” is described in Culture & Values (2009) as one the most popular paintings in Western art. It is also, according to Botticelli, Primavera (1998), “one of the most written about, and most controversial paintings in the world. While most critics agree that the painting, depicting a group of mythological figures in a garden, is allegorical for the lush growth of Spring, other meanings have also been explored. (Wikepedia)

The Primavera, also known as the Allegory of Spring, Botticelli  (circa 1482) housed Uffizi Gallery of Florence.

This is my favorite and I can appreciate why various meanings have been explored.  I myself wonder at the male on the left being tempted by the fruit and not the beautiful women by his side and then what is happening on the right? I will leave you to your own interpretations.  I would be interested to hear them.

I hope you have enjoyed my ‘women in art’ today.


Art Women

Women in art ~ Day 2 ~ Portraits of Jane Austen

Being a big fan of Jane Austen and her works I had to include her in my week of women in art.  I like a good mystery and the following  portrait has caused a mystery  for several years with regard to whether or not the young girl is actually Jane Austen.

A young Jane Austen? painted by Ozias Humphry

One of Jane Austen’s cousins gave the painting to a neighbour a fan of Jane’s work, and told her it was a painting of Jane Austen by Zoffany. at the time and until last century, it was accepted as a portrait of Jane Austen as a young girl, and was included by Lord Brabourne in his edition of Jane Austen’s letters.

In more recent times the painting came under more critical scrutiny, and it was determined that Jane Austen would have been around thirty years old when the painting was done, obviously much older than the girl in the portrait; it has further been determined that the painting is certainly not by Zoffany but by Ozias Humphry.  It was thought that the painting could have been Jane Austen’s cousin also called Jane and that when the gift was given it was on a misapprehension.

However, several Austen scholars have become convinced that the painting could have been done at the time that Jane Austen was at the age of the girl in the portrait, and that other considerations, including some paperwork related to the painting as well as the resemblance of the girl to known portraits of Austen family members, showed that it was very possible that the painting was of Jane Austen. In 2007, Henry Rice, the late owner of the painting, attempted to auction the painting through Christie’s, advertising it as the only known real portrait of Jane Austen. Unfortunately for the Rice family, buyers apparently felt the provenance of the portrait did not match the price asked, and the auction did not reach the reserve price.

Ann Winston Rice, the wife of the late Henry Rice has a mission to tell the true story of the painting in her website here, which I found very interesting.

There are few images of Jane Austen, but here are a some more..

Jane Austen 3
Siloutte of Jane Austen?

One of the best-known images of Jane Austen is the well-known silhouette found pasted into a copy of Mansfield Park, bearing the legend “L’aimable Jane” (the amiable/pleasant/nice Jane) . There is no evidence to prove it is actually Jane. It is owned by the National Portrait Gallery.


Jane Austen 1
The Watercolour Portrait of
Jane Austen, painted by James Stanier Clarke in 1815 and contained in his Friendship Book

This portrait of Jane Austen makes Clarke’s Friendship Book a literary treasure of inordinate rarity. The National Portrait Gallery in England incorrectly claims an absolute monopoly in Jane Austen portraiture by owning the only depiction of Jane Austen in the world which (they say) “can be authenticated”: (ie by the Gallery themselves). The National Portrait Gallery’s claim to a monopoly is now said to be incorrect. There are now three portraits of the novelist (including Clarke’s) which are known and claimed to be authenticted . It would seem almost as difficult as finding a true portrait of portrait-less William Shakespeare. (

NPG 3630,Jane Austen,by Cassandra Austen
The only authenticated image of Jane is a small pencil-and-watercolor sketch done by Cassandra Austen, currently on display in the National Portrait Gallery in London

I hope you have enjoyed my post today for my week of women in art.  Sorry for the delay I had a hectic day yesterday.


Fiction Short story Word a week challenge

Curve – A word a week challenge

This is my entry into the word a week challenge, with ”Curve” being this weeks word.  Please find the challenge via this link


‘’I just love those curves,’’ he said.  I thought he was being a little forward as it was our first date.  We met through an online dating agency and agreed to meet at a local country pub/restaurant not too far from my home.  Like a gentleman he had walked me to my car and I was hoping, perhaps he might ask me for a second date.  Now I was beginning to think he wanted to continue the first date somewhere else and I wasn’t sure I was ready for more intimacy yet.

‘’What a beautiful body,’’ he continued, ‘’I just want to run my hands up and down it.’’  His eyes were twinkling and bright and he looked like an over-excited teenager.  We hadn’t even kissed and he wasn’t exactly looking into my eyes.

By now I was flushing crimson in the face.  ‘’I just love the deep red colour, what a baby!’’ he continued with the over indulgent amorous words.  ‘’What I would do for a ride right now baby!’’

‘’I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am Sir,’’ I swiftly slapped him in the face. 

How could he spoil a perfect night out like this?  I really thought he was a gentleman.  We had wonderful conversation in the restaurant.  I told him I had recently been hurt and wanted to take things slow.   He held open the door, took off my coat, listened tentatively and now he had turned into a sex maniac!

‘’Whoa baby, what was that for? I was only admiring your car!’’


red car

Dreams Fiction Picture it and write Short story Spain

Picture it and write – Spanish dreams


I rang my new lover, Jay. ‘’Can you meet me at The Lemon Tree at 7.30pm?’’ It was a new tapas bar in my local town in Halifax, Yorkshire, England. It was a dreary old mill town, pretending to be cosmopolitan.  It perhaps succeeded and fooled some on a rare hot, sunny day.  Today it was one of those and I loved to sit outside The Lemon Tree and dream of being back in Andalusia, Spain, drinking tinto verano (summer red wine) and enjoying little dishes of calamari, braised courgettes in honey and patatas alioli (potatoes in garlic).  The menu wasn’t quite as authentic, but I could dream and imagine being back in the pretty Spanish town I had grown to love.  Jay agreed to meet me that evening.

After years of working in the high pressured environment of banking, I was offered an escape, a way out and an opportunity to leave with a nice severance package.  I had to tell him I planned to leave and live my dream in Spain.  I was going to ask him to come with me.  I had fallen head over heels in love with this young, tall dark and handsome man.  He was passionate, artistic, and intelligent and even had the Mediterranean looks.  The first time I saw him, I thought he was Spanish or Italian, until he opened his mouth and his accent was almost as broad as any others who had lived in this town all of their lives.

I met him in the new art gallery that had been created in a space in the old Mill that loomed over the town.  The bank I worked for rented some of the mill out and I was sent to set up a new office department there.  Six months down the line the company was taken over by a larger international bank and the business transferred to London.  I realized my job was under threat  I often had a walk around the mill at lunchtime, to visit a new café bar that had sprung up and one lunch time I decided to look around the gallery.  All the work displayed was mainly of local artists but I was especially drawn to a collection of lake and mountain scenes, almost fairy-tale and magical, full of vibrant colors.   I must have stood for over five minutes staring at one painting and getting lost in my own fantasy of being back in Spain.

‘’I see you are admiring the work of Carlos Moreno’’ The man startled me.  ‘’Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. My name is Jay’’.

‘’Oh it’s OK  I was dreaming of a place in Spain I love, a little village in the mountains of Andalucía.  Nice to meet you Jay, I’m Sally.’’

Jay held out his hand and as I shook it I felt a warmth and instant connection.  I was blushing, a confident woman of forty something and I was feeling like a teenager again.  He asked if I wanted to pop into the gallery café for a coffee.

‘’I can tell you more about the artist if you are interested; he actually grew up in Ronda, a beautiful town not far from the lakes and mountains of Andalusia.  I manage this gallery, but can take a break for half an hour.’’

I really should have been heading back to work, but I already knew my career was likely to be coming to an end and my passion and dedication for the job was dwindling.

‘’I would love to Jay’’ I agreed without hesitation.

Within half an hour he had told me that Carlos Moreno was his grandfather on his mother’s side, which explained his Mediterranean looks.  He also told me the artist moved to Yorkshire to marry his grandmother and never went back to Spain.  Unfortunately he died of lung cancer when he was 42, but in the six months before he died he painted the collection that was displayed in the gallery.

‘’It was all from his memory’’ Jay explained.  ‘’I think that is why they appear somewhat mystical and fairy-tale like.  I never got to know my grandfather, but have a sense of him through his art work.  I was so happy that the owner of the gallery let me display his collection’’.

We agreed to meet for lunch the next day and then continued to meet every day, either for lunch at the café in the gallery or at the Lemon Tree in the evening.  He told me more about his family and how he regularly visited distant cousins in Ronda.  He told me of a wonderful little farmhouse that had been passed down to him just outside the town and how he has dreams of living the simple life there. His dreams were of keeping goats, having an olive grove, writing and painting.  The house, however was in a state of disrepair and needed much love and attention.

After our first evening date Jay walked me to my car and moved forward to embrace me.  I knew it would be passionate and I longed to kiss him, but I had to tell him my secret.  I meant to tell him the first time we met and had lunch, but I was scared he wouldn’t want to see me again.  I pulled away from him, avoiding the kiss.

‘’What is it Sally?’’ He looked hurt and embarrassed. ‘’Have I misread the signals?’’

I burst into tears. ‘’Oh no Jay, I so much want this, but I am afraid I have deceived you’’ I continued to sob.  ‘’I am married and my husband is at home drinking himself stupid every day, while I try and keep the house and bills going.  I should have told you.  I am on the verge of leaving him, but have been so afraid of what he might do.’’

Jay got in the car with me and held me until I stopped sobbing.  He kissed the tears away from my face and held me again.   ‘’I am falling in love with you Sally. I feel I have met my soul-mate in you.  We want the same things I am sure of it’’

‘’Oh Jay I know and I feel the same, but you can’t want me now I have deceived you’’. The tears were welling up again.

‘’I want you more my love. I want to protect you and give you the happiness you deserve.  We will make it work, we have to as we are meant to be.’’  He reassured me and we had that passionate kiss and embrace.  Once I fell into his arms I knew we were meant to be.

When I got home that night my husband was in a drunken stupor again on the sofa.  I threw a blanket over him and went to bed, dreaming of Jay and the life we could have.  In the morning he was still asleep on the sofa, stinking of beer and cigarettes.  I know I had tried, really tried. He wouldn’t accept any help and his family even told me to leave him.  It was hard as I loved him once, but looking back I began to doubt it.  I didn’t know what real love was until I met Jay.  I wrote my husband  a letter and told him I was leaving him.  He could have the house, the big house with the over fancy furniture.  I didn’t need it or him.  I confessed I was in love with another man and I was leaving him.  I stuck the note on his whiskey glass as he was sure to read it then.

When I got to work, my manager called me in his office and said ‘’Sally, you know the takeover has put our jobs at risk and I have been made redundant.  The bank are offering the chance for you to move to Head Office in London with a great package or voluntary redundancy’’.

I knew immediately I would take the redundancy and told him there and then.  I took the rest of the afternoon off and drove into the country where I walked and contemplated my future.  By mid-afternoon I had a plan.  I could live my dream and Jay’s dream if he was willing.  I rang my lover and arranged to meet him that evening at the Lemon Tree.

Jay listened to me tell him how I wanted to go to Spain and live a simple life, perhaps have a little café bar, keep goats and grow olives.  He said it was his dream too and we could live it together.  We talked about his little farm house and how we could work on it and make it a home.  I felt my life was becoming mine and my dreams were coming true.

We kissed goodnight and promised that would be our last night apart. I was going to leave my husband tomorrow, never to sleep in that hideous  marital bed again.  Never again would I smell stale cigarettes and booze.

Driving past the village pond on my way home I saw a sad, tramp like figure splashing about trying to drag the bed into the pond, then I realized it was  my crazy drunken husband.  I know now the marital bed will never be slept in again and I waved at him  as I went to pack up my belongings.