Tag Archive: Poetry

Hello to my friends around the world!

I hope that you are enjoying the Autumn weather and that all is well in your world!


The author Darlene Pagan has chosen my painting THE ELEMENTS Fire #6 for the cover of her latest book of poetry called ‘SETTING THE FIRES.’  Darlene is a very talented author and I am honored to have this painting serve such an eclectic purpose.    Below is a photograph of the cover! For a limited time you can visit http://www.airliepress.org to purchase “SETTING THE FIRES” at a prepublication price of $12.00.  You will have the ever expanding experience of discovery by purchasing this amazing poetry book!


SETTING THE FIRES Darlene Pagan www.airliepress.org cover painting Laara WilliamSen cover design Airlie Press (c) 2015 Copyrighted

SETTING THE FIRES Darlene Pagan http://www.airliepress.org cover painting Laara WilliamSen cover design Airlie Press (c) 2015 Copyrighted



REVIEWS OF “SETTING THE FIRES“ Poetry book by Darlene Pagen


“Oh, Darlene Pagan, where have you been all my reading life with your hard-hitting poems, your luminous words, your insights and mesmerizing cadences, your stories, your quirky visions, your lines so sharp and well-honed they glint like a knife edge as they cut through to the heart, your singular strategies with language, metaphor, with silences and syntax, your way of looking at the world? Here are poems I’ve been hungering to read, the poet I’ve been waiting to discover.”

  • JULIA ALVAREZ, author of Homecoming, The Woman I Kept to Myself, In the Time of the Butterflies.  


“A lively sensibility is at work and play in Setting the Fires.  Irreverent and fully American, these poems are crackling with irrepressible humor and an eye for the quirky detail.  I also admire their clear language and scopy of subject matter, from childhood to adulthood, from the personal to the political, they leave a record of a self wide awake to the world.“

  • DORIANNE LAUX, author of sThe Book of men, Facts About the Moon.



“In SETTING THE FIRES, by Darlene Pagan, fire is a literal combustion and a huger that claims both the natural world and the human heart.  Whether in the passion between lovers, the wonder of childhood, the threat of violence, or in the seed of inspiration, fire is an element of loss and destruction necessary for renewal and cleansing. 

Darlene Pagan is the auther of a chapbook of poems BLUE GHOSTS (Finishing Line Press 2011).  Her poems and essays have appeared in many journals, including Field Magazine, Calyx, Hiram Poetry Revoew and Literal Latte, and earned national awards and nominations for Pushcart Prizes and Best of the Net.  She teaches at Pacific University in Forest Grove Oregon.“Text above is copyrighted (c) 2015 by Airlie Press, Portland, Oregon.  Published with permission of the author, Darlene Pagan.


I highly recommend that you take a peek at the preview of SETTING THE FIRES and get your copy at prepublication price of $12.00 http://www.airliepress.org 



I send to you my very best wishes for rainy days with good soup, cosy nights with a good book, long walks in the autumn leaves and of course lots of Love and Light,


Laara WilliamSen

International professional painter

Vancouver, B.C., Canada



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I recently heard about TheWhole9.com and Founder, Lisa Schultz`amazing effort to bring The Peace Project 2011 into the world community. I am thrilled to be a contributing artist and one of the top selected artists. Please visit and consider a donation that will help provide crutches for amputees in Sierra Leone. http://www.thepeaceproject.com/operation-rise.php


inside my eye 
there is a place of infinite Peace 
through the mist rising in the light 
of the new moon
we can dance 
to the same ancient and future desires 
we are the earth and stars 
one heartbeat, one breath, one song 

we are Peace rising

Author: Laara WilliamSen

Laara WilliamSen original oil PEACE RISES cropped square from 20 x 24 inches MOONLIGHT IN THE TREES (C) 2011 All Rights Reserved except for the Whole 9 exhibition Peace Rises.

The image submitted for Peace Rising is cropped to a square from an oil painting on canvas titled “Moonlight in the Trees.” Sized 20 x 24 inches. Laara WilliamSen International professional painter, author Vancouver, B.C. Canada http://www.thewhole9.com/thepeaceproject-full.php?id=1306
Laara WilliamSen


2:01 am
February 23, 2010

In these rare hours

spiral corridors of thoughts shuttle

a wild dictation pre-empting logic

where impossible seeds take hold

in my landless neurology

dissolving drop by drop

into my sleep darkly.

So…..having slept a dreamless sleep, I awakened this morning and moved through the day with an ever increasing need to fantasize about a world filled with people who care about one another deeply.

A world where no one suffers and the air and water are clean.

A world where there is no war…no more killing and senseless diseases are conquered.

Hey, I can dream. Why don’t you join me!

I have this theory which is not my own but based on scientific data.

The one hundredth monkey syndrome.

On an island, far, far away there were ninety-nine monkeys.  They were quite hungry and yet playful.  They began to play with the stones on a beach.  Tossing them back and forth and up into the air.  Quite by accident, one monkey took a bite out of the stone, only to discover that it was a potato. True, monkeys would probably prefer bananas, but there were no bananas, just potatoes and once the word got around all of the ninety-nine monkey began to eat potatoes.

Now here’s the good part. Right about that time, on a nearby island, for no apparent reason, a monkey who knew nothing of the potato revelation on the first island, picked up a potato and began to eat it!

I’m not implying that we are monkeys, but really if we all dream the same dream, you never know what might happen.
Let us keep our hope, compassion and love foremost in our hearts and minds as we move through each moment of our day! Peace is possible!


Today I walked in the woods, Grandpa

not too far from where you and Gramma had the farm.

The path was moist, mulched with red leaves

and sweet smelling earth.

 A wide variety of mosses were sprouting,

clinging to dead curled up tree limbs.

Fallen logs were covered in lime green short haired moss.

I used to pick it and make gardens in shoeboxes.

Purple and browns in the tree trunks that swayed together

to form an arch where threads of sage coloured moss hung down

and the frail sun scattered droplets of light,

Hawthorn berries, rich crimson bleeding off the thorny branches

knit so tightly together     and I thought of you, Grandpa

and remembered your calloused hands,

stained crimson and deep purple from picking summer blackberries.

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