Kathy Ostman-Magnusen’s blog

The image is of a little watercolor sketch I did... I forget its title at the moment.  I did a series of 100+ of them when I was visting my sister.

"Why Are Boys So Mean to Girls? And How Do They Feel Years Later?"

There was a stain on her dress
and it was the only thing that he could see.
And all that afternoon
she felt
very un-special
looking back on her
it was to her
yes me
a stroke of regret
a mean implanted sting.

She wanted to know love
mistaking a boy for a man
who would never understand
a young girls heart
or anything past his own
at the moment
selfish mood
to impart.

Young boys
grow up to be men
and I confess to being curious
do they look back
do they ultimately
understand
past those days
of words without groom?

If you look into the sun
nothing can be seen
the glow is too bright
trees are missed
and rivers continue on
despite our missing eyes
life continues
and we see other lives.

Out on the landscape
a million eyes
have spied
missed the kisses of the land
that if we held our breath
for just one single second
would indeed
lend
colors
and an outrer magnitude.
In new days
we might just begin
to comprehend
new lands do not end.
And I would say
 to me
and you
ahh at least that's a beginning.

Hold out for kindness
past self
boys who forget
a young girl has feelings
and a boy
self absorbed
or in his own insecurities
can be cold
of heart.

So many years away now
a stain
on 'my' dress
and a boy who recognized it
as a stain
past my heart.

I did get past that
the boy and his rejection
looking once in awhile on google
to see if he still lives
afar.
So many years ago
a girl and a dress
stained into her psyche
she was a girl
indeed

dismissed.
And added to her memories
a dream put to a test
if she could fly
past that day
of sadness
of her own
diary
of a someone's piety
a young boys words
that took so long
for her
to protest.

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen Copyright 2009

I could not resist adding this "Doggie Fashion Show" NONE of these doggies are well trained so it is just so darn funny to see the human models tripping all over them and the doggies wanting to look at everything. LOVE IT~!

"I Want to Dress My Doggie in a Pink Tutu - Am I Crazy?"

I want to dress my dog in pink
yes in a pastel pink tutu.
So what do you think?
 
This canine could sparkle
ruffled edges with a lavender bow?
I think she could look quite remarkable!

It seems to be the craze
doggies in top hats
or queen for the day.
 
Wearing costumes of charm
strutting their stuff
dogs of today let out of the barn.

I want to dress my dog in blue
a sailor suit with a little cap
yes, that's what I will do.

Magnificent doggie never pound bound
she holds her head high
with a rhinestone crown.

Such a musician is she
future violin lessons
up her sleeve.

This former shelter dog
ain't no ordinary girl
pink tutu and a schedule to log.

When I sleep at night
I am mesmerized
in her own jet this girly takes flight.

A second job to dress her right
who knows where she's going
with her goals to ignite.

Its not too much to ask for
a few outfits to dance in
on the night scenes main floor.

Yes dancing all night
that's what pink tutus are for
gotta dress this girl right.

It's hard to explain
a dress code for this diva
and what a dog might proclaim. 

You might think it fantasy
this canines wishes
I guess it's something you'd have to see.

So if I want to dress my doggie
in pink tutu
or for scuba diving.

'Tis not my fault - I'm giving in
to a canines longings
and dreams to be lived.

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
Copyright 2009

"I paint self portraits because I am the person I know best."

 "I hope the departure is joyful and I hope never to return." ~Frida Kahlo

~~*~~

It is for Frida then that I write:

"Notorious Kahlo I Love You I Do - As I Stand in the Shadows Weeping For You"

Mexican art goddess
Frida Kahlo
Spanish gem
rebellious thunder
independent glamour queen
of a most glorious wonder.

Shocking conservative foes
dressing her canvases
with mirrors
from her very own
battered
and injured soul.

Notorious Kahlo
I love you I do
as I stand in the shadows
weeping for you.

If I do not understand
mine own pain
I will lust after Frida
and her soulful
honestly delivered
claims.

Mexican goddess
tears marked her days
you and I should remember
such courage
displayed.

Wounded in body
demons of the dark
yet despite convalescence
on canvas
this goddess
left her deepest remarks.

Diego Rivera
came into her life
murals of politics
and Mexican strife.
France did know them
an artists pair
who danced in their art scene
reputations to flair.

Ahh feminist Frida
I light candles to you
when alone in my closet
unsure of what to do.
Cult figure I honor
write notes on my door
remember Ms Kahlo
who painted her soul's roar.

Who better to paint
than the one, one knows best
from cradle to grave
Frida revealed her own struggles
and difficult tests.

Vibrant colors
sure of her gestures
leaving no misunderstanding
Frida Kahlo said and painted
exactly
what her heart measured.

Sexuality not ignored
as some women do
Frido Kahlo said it all
as she thought her life through.

She gave herself freedom
creative displays
dramatic symbolism
gave us visions
within and without
her cast prison.
 
Within your bodies torturous doorman
your efforts to explore
courageous decisions
will forever ignite me
past the tunes
of simple
folklore.

Notorious Kahlo
I love you I do
as I stand in the shadows
weeping for you.

April 2009
by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

Victorian 8

Many a legend of mermaids tell of sailors captured and a maidens woeful cries.  Lost at sea forever be.

"Sailors Captured by Mermaids and Thus the Maidens Woeful Cries"

I stood upon the shoreline
and heard a maidens decree
"I hope your departure is sorrowful
yet filled with victory"

Lovers are lost in battle
journeys of strapping young men
who haste not to ride the tides
never to be seen again.

Labyrinth on the water
waves that the wind winds round
Purple goddess watching
met by a dolphins sound.

Within the stormy seduction
of ships that set their sails
sailors beckon adventure
beyond a dragons gale.

Kaleidoscopes of the night
great birds rush down
Sheer Waters toast a victory
to seas glories unbound.

Whales that find Kauai shores
masters of the sea
Legends of mermaids come hither
in hopes to deliver he.

Goddesses with tails
a night at the museum
acting as statues on ships
till the wind frees them.

Puzzles of night
mystique that fairies tell
sailors captured by mermaids
no longer to set sail.

And oh the fair young maidens
who waved their last good byes
hold inside their hearts
a love that never dies.

And in that mystery
that causes men to prevail
for the oceans calling
past the moon beyond the pale.

Athena prevails for wisdom
warfare for a captains breed
the only hopeful note
for a sailor to be freed.

Adorned in gold sashes
Minerva makes her mark
wisdom to prevail
for a mans dying remark.

So set your sails all sailors
the wind might set you free
but the tide of life makes no promises
from a mermaid of the sea.

Last night I heard a mournful woe
bittersweet the song
a maiden forever in waiting
for a sailor she loved so.

Make toasts to the sailor then
who fought his battle and lost
to mermaids lying wait
Athena's advice thus crossed.

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
copyright 2009

IMG_1160+aaa

"A Little Time For Pain - Pathetic Intrusion - 3 Days Grace and I'll Be Fine"

Pain
three days grace
a little time
and I will be back to myself
again.

A little time for pain
pathetic intrusion
soon to be dismissed
perhaps not forgotten
completely
but the goddess in me will go on.

Three days of grace
pain will be on its way
out the back door
and out of my life.

Mourning and delving into the moment
sadness
inner reflection
women in pain
men in pain
we all feel that invisible solitude of heartache
in the darkness
late at night
some
times.

Such pitiful
immortal lyrics
toasting costumes
masks
traded in for new dresses
and a gilded cage.
Yet fighting those troubles
beautiful is the heart in time
once acceptance is sung
and ultimately
conquered
for the masterpiece
of a steadfast sign.

Sadness
exotic in so many ways
many a song has been sung under its
watchful days.
Dances with the devil
dances with drawings of angels
carved into the heart.

I am aware of secret tactics
whimsical angels of fantasy
perhaps disguised
dismissing coincidences
tis a dichotomy
bleeding.
Evil blessing a fairies song
goodness stoned
dismissed
denied
despite her wilting sighs?

Trees change within every season
telling me...
Do not cry.

Blessed be the changes of the moon
and how the earth keeps singing.
Rock me in the daylight
let me be inside the lions roar
lest I reach the end
within my sacred plight
unexplored.

Rescue me
tell me time is short
that's what history tells a wounded soldier.
Tell me then
before I shut that gate
lest I forget a devils pen might steal
mercy for my own self
and this majestic date.

I will plan the perfect end
battle the forces
combat the enemy
platitudes mend.
Strategies set
planned now with a  warrior woman's
precision
I will scheme to save myself.
Three days
and I will be fine.
Pain
three days grace.

I will make a shoebox diarama
in the rain
one hundred umbrellas sheltering my cause
and in my stead for a weeping song
I will place at the feet
of every flower
a precious gemstone.
Blossoms to stand guard
for my swaying
confused at times
lowly heart.

15 April 2009
by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

"My Love- I Treasure The View That Fills Your Eyes"

I've spent time thinking how you'd like the wind to move.
I savour those moments with you
when we both felt it on our skin.

I still treasure all those antics of yours
the tunes you danced to
when you thought I was not looking.
I stroke those lines.

My tongue swells
and I anticipate the very color of your touch.

Secrets about you keep me awake at night.
I keep them jars along with useless glitter
and dried out baby roses
blessed pink whenever I am sad.

I am hoping you will write back
if indeed my measures rhyme between your fingers.
I am this moments advocate.

I painted the plaster meant to block out smiles
giving them another mystery.
No worrying about slow souls
reaching for exits
who cares after all?
I have my feelings intact for you
nothing will ever change that.

I hear the shape of your shadow
and I am bewildered
forever stunned
that you remember me when I miss you.

I'll send lilacs through a windmill
sift out all those pleasure stealers
who pretend to not understand.

Oh my love
I will always treasure the view that fills your eyes
And when I miss you
in those middle of the night hours
as I hear your breath sleeping
I will reach over for you with my longing
stroke your forehead
and let you rest beside me.

Oh yes
I've spent time thinking how you'd like the wind to move.
I savour those moments with you
and within that magic
I will always love you.
 
 ~~*~~
Kathy Ostman-Magnsen
21 March 2009
Copyright 2009

The image is of my painting "For Isa" 18x24 oil on canvas

I am represented by Monkdogz Urban Art, NY If you are interested in purchasing ORIGINAL art contact Bob Hogge, Marinia Hadley or Sebastian: http://www.monkdogz.com

~~*~~

LNudeIMG_1399

2 comments

"Drawing Women Warriors in the Dark-Pain Can Form an Elegant Journey"

I reach for my pen
drawing women warriors
in the dark
hoping that I might become one
hoping I might slay that dragon
or at the very least define him.

Pain can form an elegant journey
beautiful
mature
in the end
despite the frailties
and longings for normalcy.
Within this walk
pain can bring either chaos
or resolutions.
Twigs are found
under the wings of birds
that plan well.

I have emerged from the mire
placed my tongue on raindrops
closed my eyes when senses exploded
bathed myself in numbness
at times
just to cope.

This pain
this sadness
this walk
that so often gropes
and feels for me
in the dark
arises
well past promised rainbows.
Quietness seems to glare there
despite hobbled notations
of finding some tune to dance to.

Oft times I feel a presence...
beautiful older women
behind gates that don't open.
Slipping into another time
events of smelling history
and neatly pulled back curtains.
I am wounded by slivers from pale entrances.
I blow them kisses
hoping I  survive
never clearly understanding the moral.

I am coated in black.
Or is it a tune of yellow?
A ribbon for my own soul
transfered onto a glass sidewalk
lest I forget my lessons.
Wouldn't you think I'd know them by now?

Pack them away
those diaries that boast no claims for sainthood.
Be positive
quote other people's words
and gain their wealth
of...
of...?

It is within this small second
that I take note of being happy.
I guess at times I expect it to be continual.
Mud blocks stand before the door
and me.
Yet, I will pass them by.
They are just the ways of childhood
bullied by fears
of never holding oneself close enough.

Such an elegant journey
pain
translucent
when held up to the light.

Painted now
those drawings of women warriors
painted with the blood of vacant smiles.
I'd always hoped to induce more.
Perhaps time will uncover a broader narrative.

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
copyright 2009

The response to the artists of the Schaefer Portrait Challenge 2009 and their work has been astounding with over 5,000 visitors to Maui Culture and the Arts Gallery to date!
Thousands of people have cast their ballots to determine their favorite portrait.
Maui Culture and the Arts will be hosting the Marian Freeman People's Choice Award reception Monday Feb. 16th at 5:00 in the gallery. 
The top five artists with the most votes will be recognized and the $5,000. award will be given that evening.

If YOU are in Maui, Hawaii during this time be sure to stop by!

MY painting in this invite is top row second from the left.  Within this blogI have posted the image of my painting called, "Mr. Magnusen" as well as the narrative.

Aloha, Kathy