Category Archives: Art

Beautiful Getting My Hands Dirty…

21 Wednesday Jan 2026

Posted by in Art, Drawing, Garden, Home, Nature, Painting, Poetry, Reflections, watercolor, Writing

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© Joan Currie – Detail of my succulent garden.


Getting My Hands Dirty by Joan Currie

I dug my hands into the cold, moist
soil,
dark with iron-stained oak leaves,
geraniums collapsed into themselves,
the soft wreckage of mulch
returning to its first idea.

There were celandine and verdigris
succulents stained with bluish grey,
swollen with the calm confidence
of continuing.
They rose from cuttings
I gathered last season–
still busy, even now,
making life.

As I knelt there, I thought–
does the one who never tends a plant
miss this small astonishment,
this unannounced miracle,
or is it enough
to stand back,
hands clean,
and love the beauty
without knowing
how deeply it must be touched
to appear?

© Joan Currie – Succulents – continuous drawing

A Hard Draw…

14 Wednesday Jan 2026

Posted by in Art, Drawing, Poetry, Reflections, Relationships

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© Joan Currie – A Hard Draw Man by Joan Currie (continuous lines drawing)


A Hard Draw by Joan Currie

He offered his arm
to the phlebotomist,
on a pale altar.

The limb was tapped,
warmed, positioned.
Nothing rose.
The vein refused.

More jabs, more prodding.
A butterfly needle,
its tiny cannula
tracking the long geography
of both arms,
as if searching for water
in a punished land.

As last–
a thimbleful of dark crimson,
just enough
to satisfy the panel.

No surprise:
he was like his veins–
sealed off, hoarding
whatever pulse lay hidden.
No flicker, no sound.

His face held
the dry stare
of a camel’s head
on a spike in the Medina.

His latest partner
offered soothing caresses,
soft words,
leaned towards his corpse.
All of it wasted.

He recoiled,
gave up nothing.

Once she thought
she saw a glint–
a slight dilation of the eye.
It was enough
for her to imagine goodness
where none lived.

She learned,
in time,
and left.

Beautiful Wisdom…

16 Sunday Mar 2025

Posted by in Art, beautiful, Birds, Poetry, Reflections, watercolor, World peace

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© Joan Currie – My Northern Spotted Owl watercolor.


Wisdom in Turbulent Times by Joan Currie

The air splinters like glass–
I perch on a gnarled limb, a solitary watcher
in the fractured gloom of night,
where bitter winds gnash at a starless sky.

Below, the earth trembles with despair,
its pulse a staccato of sorrow, as the cacophony
of man’s ruin echoes through my ancient eyes.
I, the silent sentinel of twilight, bear witness
to hearts ensnared in an endless dispute.

I drift through fractured hours,
each moment a shard of broken light,
and in the rustle of dying leaves I hear
the desperate murmur of questions
scraping at the marrow of human intent.

I long for a guiding voice–
a call as steady and resolute as my own nocturnal hymn–
that might reach the steely hearts of
our world’s posturing masters,
whose empty grandstanding leaves their people trembling
at the ominous specter of what is to come.

Yet wisdom is never tender;
it is honed by the relentless edges of despair,
etched in the scars of time and the silent ache of the dark.
I, who have seen centuries unfold beneath these ageless stars,
offer my muted counsel to the chaos below.

I am afraid, yet I remain–a keeper of ancient truth–
praying that, in the echo of my solemn hoots,
a spark of reason my be kindled.
May their voices rise, clear and fierce as the cry of the night owl,
to lead us from the tempest and transform shattered hours into
the promise of a new dawn.

I pray for world peace.

Beautiful Valentine’s Day 2025…

14 Friday Feb 2025

Posted by in Art, Birds, Gouache, Love, Painting, Poetry, Relationships, Valentine's Day

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© Joan Currie – My Valentine’s Day owl card series, “Whoooo loves you? I do!” Gouache.


A Love Worth Waiting For... by Joan Currie

I once believed in fairy tales, in love so vast, so bright,
A love that soared on golden wings and lit the darkest night.
I dreamed of hands that knew my own, of hearts that beat the same,
Of whispered vows in starlit hush, of love that burned like flame.

Yet time wove shadows in my path, and love became a ghost,
A wistful wish, a fleeting dream, a ship without a coast.
I wandered through the quiet years, through echoes soft and thin,
Not knowing love was biding time, still waiting to begin.

And then—you came, like summer rain, like dawn upon the sea,
A love so deep, so fierce, so true, it woke the soul in me.
No fleeting spark, no passing storm, no whisper in the air,
But something strong as ancient oaks, as certain as a prayer.

The love of ballads, sonnets bright, the love that poets weave,
The love of kings and wayard knights, of hearts that won’t deceive.
A love where laughter, wild and free, is laced with tender sighs,
Where every glance is poetry, where longing never dies.

So here we stand, with hands entwined, where fate and dreams align,
A love reborn, a tale retold—forever yours and mine.
No more a wish, no more a ghost, no more a fleeting glance,
But love, at last, as it should be—our fated, timeless dance.

I have found love again! I am so grateful for each and every glorious moment we spend together!

© Joan Currie -Another owl for my Valentine’s Day cards series of owls for my family.

Happy Valentines’s Day to all of you! ❤️

Beautiful Skating on the Last Day of the Year…

31 Tuesday Dec 2024

Posted by in Art, Art studio, beautiful, Family, Gouache, New Year 2025, Poetry, Reflections, Winter

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© Joan Currie – My skating with my mother and father painting. Inspired by Gayle Kabaker.


The Last Day of the Year by Joan Currie

On the pond where frost wove its glimmering thread,
Round and round on the ice, so much laughter was spread.
My father on one side, my mother’s warm hand,
Together we skated through winter’s command.

The cold held no power, our joy burned so bright,
Each smile a lantern in the soft fading light.
My father, a hockey fan quick on his feet,
My mother, a skater whose grace was complete.

Their spirit of wonder still dances in me,
Like ripples of moonlight on a shimmering sea.
Though time has now carried their voices away,
Their love is a gift I unwrap every day.

As the year softly closes, I cherish the thought,
Of the laughter and lessons their living had taught.
I hope that my children will carry their flame,
And feel in their hearts that same joyous refrain!

A toast to the the beauty of years that have passed,
To moments of love that forever will last.
On this last day of the year, as memories shine,
I feel their hands guiding, still holding to mine.

My best wishes to you for 2025! Happy New Year!  ❤️ 

Beautiful Witching Hour…

06 Wednesday Nov 2024

Posted by in Acrylics, Art, beautiful, Poetry, Reflections

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© Joan Currie – my acrylic on canvas painting

My Witching Hour by Joan Currie

At three, my eyes open to the soft night’s call,
A distant train’s echo, faint engines drone,
Murmur of creatures, house timbers groan,
And I’m caught in a web spun silent and small.

Yet once woken, the night takes me far-
To warm tropic waters, to sunlit sands,
To brushstroke dreams with my eager hands,
Where crimson red and blue glow like a star.

I drift in dances on shores unknown,
Beneath heavens that pierce the shadowed dome,
And revel with loved ones near the old home,
By the lake where moonlight and memories are sewn.

Then the hour fades; I’m lulled once more,
Into soft slumber’s waiting door,
Wrapped in the hush of dreams restored.

At three o’clock in the morning, I resist the temptation to turn on the light to read or sew. Rather, I lie very still and the hour overcomes me in the sweetest, best possible way.

The feeling from the song in Only Murders in the Building, performed by Meryl Streep, is aligned with how I feel during that magical hour.

Beautiful Bernese Mountain Dog…

30 Wednesday Oct 2024

Posted by in Animals, Art, beautiful, Dogs, Love, Poetry, watercolor

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© Joan Currie – My watercolor of my daughter’s Bernese Mountain dog.


The Boisterous Bernese by Joan Currie

There once was a dog, ninety pounds full of might,
A Bernese with a bark and a spirit so bright.
He bounded through rooms with a boundless delight,
And no rule could hold him – oh, try as you might!

With paws on your shoulders, he’d greet every guest,
A leaper, a jumper, your patience to test.
He’d wiggle and waggle, without a disguise,
Then melt all your anger with soft, pleading eyes.

At dinner, he’d stare, nose so close to your plate,
Drooling with longing – he just couldn’t wait!
And at night, as you snuggled, in comfort to steep,
He’d plop on your bed, putting an end to your sleep.

In the bathroom, he’d trail you with passion and flair,
To keep close beside you – even into the shower!
Disobedient rascal, yet so hard to scold,
With a heart full of love, and a spirit so bold.

For though he’s a handful, your mischievous friend,
Those eyes win you over, time and again.

I think our new friend is in need of another round of obedience training!
To be continued…

Beautiful Pumpkin…

25 Friday Oct 2024

Posted by in Art, beautiful, Hallowe'en, Painting, Poetry, Pumpkin, Reflections

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© Joan Currie – My pumpkin painting in acrylic on molding paste with bronze and gold paint v.3

Hallowe’en Harvest by Joan Currie

On Hallowe’en, the earth bears gifts of gold,
Pumpkins swell, the squash begins to fold.

The harvest yields its bounty rich and bright,
And I give thanks beneath the autumn light.

But as I walk, the shadows start to creep,
And whisper secrets that the dark can keep.

For Samhain stirs, the Celtic year’s rebirth,
Where ghosts and goblins rise from out the earth.

My mind, so tethered to the harvest’s might,
Now feels the phantoms in the night.

The rational speaks of grain and seed,
But still, the restless spirits sow their greed.

A headless rider gallops through the gloom,
While witches weave their spells beneath the moon.

I walk between these worlds, both rich and strange –
The earth’s abundance, and the night’s wild change.

The harvest calls, yet something darker grows,
As from the underworld, the cold wind blows.

At this time of year, I feel an eerie presence swirling around me in the darkness on my walk home. As I did in my youth, I can’t help but pick up the pace and finally break into a run!

Happy Hallowe’en! 🧡

Beautiful Interior of My Sweet Home…

12 Thursday Sep 2024

Posted by in Art, beautiful, Daily Life, Flowers, Home, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, watercolor

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© Joan Currie – My watercolor of a vase with lemons after Vanessa Bell


My Sweet Home by Joan Currie

Within these walls, my heart does rest,
A haven wrought with love’s own crest.
The strokes of brush on canvas bare,
Birds in flight and animals fair.
Vermont’s wild lands in oil unfold,
Sunset’s fire, winter’s cold.

Here roses bloom in vases old,
Ceramic treasure finely scrolled.
Their petals whisper of the past,
Of father’s gifts – how time does last.
And glass that gleams, my mother’s hand,
In paperweights from foreign lands.

On shelves, the books of poets dwell,
Their words, like spells, my soul compels.
Photographs with faces dear,
In every frame, I hold them near.
This is my world, a soft embrace,
Where every corner finds its place.

Some speak of spaces clean and bare,
Of lives unbound by things they wear.
Yet here, amidst this cherished cache,
I find my peace and hold it fast.
For in each token, vase, or frame,
Life’s rich fabric, for now remains.

So let the world of minimal claim,
Their rooms untouched by love’s sweet flame.
For in my charming abode, I see,
The beauty that belongs to me.

I have just started giving my special treasures to my daughters for their own homes. I love seeing how my belongings look surrounded by completely different color and decorating schemes, and, my daughters’ own art and objects of affection.

Beautiful Koi…

30 Friday Aug 2024

Posted by in Art, Nature, Poetry, watercolor

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© Joan Currie – My koi in pond watercolor.

A Rare Moment with a Koi by Joan Currie

Beneath the ancient willow’s shade,
Where waters rest in jade’s embrace,
A koi of gold, with fins that played,
Arose to meet me, face to face.

Its form, a marvel, vast and bright,
With scales like sunlit autumn leaves,
It pierced the tranquil morning light,
As though it swan through silvered sheaves.

It broke the glassy surface wide,
A monarch in its water’s reign,
And in its gaze, both deep and wide,
I felt it knew my heart’s refrain.

A moment passed, yet seemed a year,
As time itself did lose its hold,
The world around so still, so near,
Was bathed in hues of green and gold.

In that calm, we two did meet,
A silent bond, no words did need,
For in the koi’s serene retreat,
I found a peace, profound indeed.

I came upon a koi pond with the biggest fish I have ever seen. One, in particular, surfaced and stayed very close to where I sat. It seemed we connected in that short time together.