Did you know Venus wrote her first book?! We've got to share it!

temporarily, but this morning I ordered Venus’ gorgeous book, and will share it with friends and maybe even strangers. :)

I can’t wait until it arrives….

What a gorgeous and inspiring work.

I love it! Bright colors, beautiful paintings and incredible poems ;)

It’s awesome! Great job~

Pieces of gorgeous.
Get it Here.
Sadly, blurb won’t accept paypal, but I’m finagling something with a kind someone in the possession of magical plastic. I hope to have a copy in my hands soon soon soon.

Simply lovely.

Spread the word.

As soon as my arm isn’t buzzing like an angry wasp and I’ve got my grip strength back, I’ll open it and be ready to send the book out to people I know will love it as much as me.

again!

poetry + art = nirvana

Once upon a time here she was known differently, and then she disappeared. I was saddened by that, but was pleased to see when she returned to the fold. I was even more pleased when I learned that she took her words and art and combined them into a book. And it’s not just any book, but a very special book that she’s sharing with us. In fact, we can even see the first fifteen pages of it here so that we can see what we’re buying before we commit. How special is that? Her generosity and creativity shines through in all she does.

_{of course this isn’t a book I’ll be giving my mom for Christmas this year.}

It’s a gem.

_{for the first time ever, I slept with a book under my pillow to give me sweet dreams!}

Embrace on the Field

Drinking cider too tart
for my unsophisticated
tongue, I read her
words. Friend from far away
I had dared to imagine
I knew.

Her paintings ripe fruit
of women lined and
luscious, dripping scent
from the quiet pages,
filling suburbia’s blur with
whispers and tears.

I wondered if men who
fought the same war in
different arenas felt as I do.
She has been there,
as have I,
as many others in this war
women fight without ceasing,
undeclared, undecorated.

Yet her words, her pain and joy,
are piercing next to my
muted murmuring. Not that one
pain need ask for another’s
assent, not that one joy
outstrips a dissimilar bliss.
We hurt. We heal.
We repair those torn
who can be saved.

This woman, my friend,
my light into darkness,
has shown me her heart.
I know not what flower
of mine I can share.
I would grow a world’s garden
to let her know:

She is seen.
She is heard.
She is loved.