poetry

Triggering Icicles

There is one song

that triggers tears

every time

No matter who

is covering it

We drove to that airport

and you had never

been alone on a flight

before

But I could not stop you

and later, when you continued

your life

while she…

she was not for you

But for a time

you learned

and hurt

and I know

because I can

still feel it

when this song plays

because I caught you

wiping a tear away

and you never knew

I saw it

But all this time

will pass

and its too strong

to forget

how that day on the

mountain pass

would always trigger

a thousand icicles

poetry

Tomatoes in August

Suddenly I love them

for over four decades

I did not

the slippery seeds

bland, unripened

pale specimens

skin tight, unripe

Now, in August 2021

I have them in our garden

on the north side of the garage

beautiful, strong, green stalks

tiny green perfect round bulbs

while the others are ugly

like little gremlins

I am excited for them.

Salsa, onion, jalapeno, cilantro

Tabasco salt and pepper

What magickal properties

have I been missing?

The memories of that window sill

and the garden alongside the house

where my father loved to pace back

and forth while he tended his vegetables

I never knew until now

that feeling of sufficiency

until I fried those first tomatoes in July

remembering that place and his pride

remembering that place where he died

not far from the tomatoes

on the windowsill

poetry

The Greens of September

While I consider my love

of olive green, specifically,

crows caw behind me

and a headache caws

behind my right eye

it’s likely from my teeth

and my fear of the dentist

Crickets rub against tall stalks

of state park grass

and every shade of green

brings me peace

An old man patiently sits

as he watches my son fishing

and I wonder if he ever thought

he would get this far

get this age

and then I remember

my mother

She went from assisted living

to the hospital

to the rehab

to the hospital

to the rehab

where just the other day

she swatted me away

a shadow of anger and despair

in her right eye

What is cawing behind it?

Confusion, anger, pain, and despair

as I watched a shadow of myself

come and go when she said,

“I love you, but you have to leave.”

Once more I cried in front of strangers

not ugly ridiculous crying,

no – that was last week

just unstoppable welling up

and leaking tears like a fault

like a crack in a dam

that just needs repair

and now I am wearing long sleeves

last week I hated August

and this week I love September

as the greens threaten us with

their imminent death

and the end of

another finished season

poetry

The Hot Irons

Please don’t take this

the wrong way

but I am too fragile

and far too emotional,

more now than you may remember,

for this abbreviated and challenging world

I saw the shadow of myself

in her eyes

and I know it’s too late

What chance did I have

What choice did I make

What road did I take

Will I stop hiding sugar

(and address that addiction)

and wear all my pointy toed shoes?

Will I hug anyone

or just my crystals and amulets

to my chest?

Forever, boiled chicken will haunt me

make me shudder

and I’ll feel super guilty

like she always wanted me to

But now that guilt has transformed

because you never know

when you will be standing

on a sticky tile floor

that has not been rinsed

that has been bathed

in the sickness of the elders

When will the haunt of the

thick plastic

reddish-brown

circular cafeteria dish

recede from my own memory?

The olfactory recollection of the scents:

pureed beef, peas, and potatoes

make my mouth water in disgust.

The smell of the plastic vanilla pudding

amidst the nearby condensation and a note:

“NO GRAVY” (heart healthy cardiac diet)

Yet there it is.

Poured over everything.

Brown and overdosed with salt.

It sits on the potatoes she refuses.

It sits on a smaller than normal teaspoon

and I feel the ghost of my father watching

Crying, screaming, and

the smell of elderly shit drift

mingling with the scent of food

that she will never eat

Drifting down every hallway

the only escape is the elevator

that no one told me the passcode for

So I cry, trapped in the scent of

feces and gravy

and I try to hide it from

the lined up men and women

sitting like hollow dominoes

all ready to fall

all ready to die

all ready to forget

decades of lives

Tangled in hospital socks

and painful IVs

sheets that hundreds have

already died in

sheets of glass so big

they mercilessly give view

to the outside world

boasting a place

they will never

be part of again

poetry

Winter Sun

untethered

swimming in the dark

towards the circlets

of winter sun

ice cold ocean

I am swimming underneath

sheets and layers

of ice and memories

of that same traffic circle

and the house fire

and the dying dog

eating food because

that was all there was

clearing the plate

or else

don’t make me

feel guilty

don’t keep asking me

to help you

feel something

that is swimming in the dark

towards the circlets

of winter sun

poetry

August Mosaics

I am careful quiet now barbed words now silent redirected, blunt art, bliss

I am cautious still, dark sands falling tempered glass opaque, shattered

I see snow covering grass leaves dancing bees stinging premonitions expire

I am older eternal, reborn piano keys violins crying silent concerto

Be careful of these small moving parts rushing along slick like mercury beads tilting and joining separate and unified as above so below running deep roots shallow graves among daisies, sunflowers and all the dead orchids

Paintings

“Lilith’s Gate” Painting & Prose

Lilith’s Gate

As I continue to work on this painting, I think back to April 2021 when She spoke to me loud and clear.  Since then I have marveled at the energetic imprint She has imposed upon me.

The following is from a morning session where She was particularly influential.

When you don’t get a chance to process trauma, She holds it for you until it is time.  She has already been where you need Her to be.

She commands you: “Do not Be ashamed of Me.  Do not Be afraid of You.”

The Red Wolf still survives.  The Red Wolf never died.  She waited.  She watched.  She thrived. 

What made you think She abandoned you?  Why did you silence Her rage and contempt?  Who was it that stepped in the way? 

Was it just one, or many?  Young or old?  Where does your contempt simmer?

Passing through Lilith’s Gate, you feel the fire and the shed skin of snakes beneath your bare feet.  She waits for your return, ready or not. 

Turning from the Beasts, you become the Beast.  You stand tall in your power.  Her power.  Our power. And your rage burns like gasoline as the Red Wolf consumes your world.

Lilith steps forward when you won’t.  She does not let bygones be bygones.  When She speaks, Everyone listens.

As I plan on being finished with this painting and having the choice to put it up for auction, I thank Her for severe and primal power and influence.  Always have, always will.

Until next time –

xo Carole

Parchment Art Collection · poetry

Wild Violet

Purple faces
Laced with dew
Your time so short
Yet vibrant hue

Magick feminine
Healing wish
Immortal love
In amethyst 💜

In 2004, I created this art and reference to Wild Violet. I was just ending my relationship with nicotine after 17 years and struggled to find a purpose and balance.

But before all that, I was always writing and creating. My handwriting has been the subject of so many amazing compliments and it can clearly be seen that I love creating art – but more than that, I love creating letter art. 💗

So, recently I have been called to gather up all those lovely things I created in hopes of inspiring and supporting others who may be trying to find a path for themselves. Healing occurs when we share what we love. I share this collection on Etsy if anyone is looking to see more!

If you are here looking for my other art or writing – it can be found on my website caroleanzolletti.com or quitsmokingexpress.com

All of this work is tied together to form a body of work that inspires, informs, and helps bring healing through image, thought, poetry, creativity, and the Universal energy that all of us wish to align with. I look forward to sharing more of my work with you soon!

xo – Carole