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Shawn Marie Hardy
United States of America

from: Angipanis of the Abanimal People - Andy Leleisi'auo
Shawn Marie Hardy is a full-time visual and mixed-media artist, and a once-in-awhile creative writer.  She currently  lives with her daughter, Ella, on the beautiful western shores in her home state of Michigan.  She spent several years in New Zealand, mostly in Dunedin, but also in Queenstown, Christchurch, and Nelson--where Ella was born.  

Shawn devotes most of her time to creating painted "dreamscapes," and only writes poems when her head feels like a tidal wave of words.  When it is time, those words come crashing out on paper all at once, then it is the canvas's turn again.  In her spare time she  is a dreamer, melody-maker, and an avid storm-chaser.

Besides the work seen here, there are many more unpublished poems  in a folder on a shelf, along with two short stories for young people: "The Gift"and "The Sounds of Summer". 



Silver planes draw grids across the sky
Daffodils bow gently to greet the breeze
Blue light bathes the countryside
A place I wish to be

Simple days that pass like ships
and all the people that traveled
Woven in spirit - a long memory
to die and then unravel

One surviving child came home
with truths that could be told
"The Freedom Generation is gone," she said,
"and history was sold
to puppets on the t.v. news."
They talk and people listen
The silver planes burst into flames
and vapor trails glisten
in shades of blue and black and red.
This war shall not be won
The Cloud Parade in masquerade
the journey now is done.

With thorny rose and soulless shoes
she came with the Northern Lights
and disappeared into the mirror
in the dead of the moonless night.

Listen now to the trickling sound -
the vapor trail's poisoned stream.
Silver planes cannot be found
Daffodils die on the ground
A wicked wild dream.

Soul Killer

You've gone into the wind - into the wind
A castaway stone, vision from skin
Gathering clouds, rising tides
Windfall high from darkening skies.
A win situation - lost port of call
Sour damnation. Back to the wall.
What happened soul killer, you spirit destroyer?
Left your venomous shoes upon my foyer.
You've gone into the wind - into the wind
Erase those lines with your ugly sins.
Counting the beads, saying my prayers,
peeling back the scars in layers.
Gathering tears - the joys you took.
Pasting my fortune in a frayed scrapbook,
"Doubts you have will soon disappear."
Doubts I had have turned to fear.
Your final decision laid on the line
and tripped like a bomb in your basement land mine.
Riddled with bullets shot from your tongue.
You bathe in the blood in a war you have won.

In the Dreamtime

We went to the Dreamtime
a place called Cape Illusion
Across the land of the red sand tides
and aborigine visions
where the sun dissects the passersby
in a race against the thunderous sky

I know your name and where you are from
How your puzzle pieces fall
How chaos churns adventure
from the gloom of the funhouse wall
As bathhouse beauties call for you
Laughing Sal mimics the kookaburra's call.

You've wanted to ride the wind with me
bareback to the city
but your angel chains you to the saddle
a prisoner of reality
Laws delivered with speechless tongues
to those who show no pity

With wooden nickels we've made bail
Demons come with swords and things
to pluck you from a handmade jail
and praise you for the songs you sing
Flightless dreams upon the mantle
replaced by a golden wedding ring

Finite numbers fall from the trees
You wake to find your senses
Your curious thirst is quenched by these
and what could be the chances
that still a missing puzzle piece
will find you in repentance.

Of all the colors swirling 'round
and washed up on the shore
the red and turquoise labyrinth
will beckon us once more
And buffalo still roam the plains
where the sun sets in the west
The passersby wave a last goodbye
their demons have been blessed
in the Dreamtime.


In this dark night of waiting
I soar overhead in a dream
You call me from a distance
arms stretched longingly.
I can see that far ahead
the thicket of dark, bowing trees
no obstacle for your westward breeze
which stirs and shakes me
and wakes me from my sleep.

Take me down and play me
I am tuned to your key
Strum these strings and sound the band
Let me be your symphony.
I will sing to you the song of spirits
Swirl and twirl in your galaxy
of falling stars and singalongs
Come into me and play your songs.
Dance with me now in the fairy-light glow
Tempus Fugit and the clock should know.

I could be an open window.
Look into me and dream
Climb through and into my room and be my destiny
Hold me tight and keep me.
Sweep away the dust that carpets my soul
Lay with me in the dew-spangled grass
glistening below
Our bodies lay together, warm,
from the light of the electric storm
that ignited from our journey.