HERE BE DRAGONS~

DragonHeart

Some of my art. Colored pencil, pen and ink, marker, and digital.  Image Copyright. Ruby Jeanette Woods. 

 

HERE BE DRAGONS~

———————————–

Here be dragons,

long and lean,

bold of heart,

not craven , mean.

Here be dragons,

warm of soul,

strong of mind,

wise and keen.

They guard their treasure,

not gold nor gems,

but scrolls of wisdom,

words of men.

Here lies wealth of a different sort,

books and tomes,

from every port.

Come learn what every page does keep,

while under the wyvern’s wing you sleep.

 

Ruby Jeanette Woods

 

WARRIOR~

 My big brave boy. He never complains. I mean NEVER. He has lain , sawn asunder in the CARDI unit of ICU in ACH. 1425703_574474442625233_565914935_n He’s had so many horrible things happen to him in his life since he came into this world as an emergency delivery , blue as a smurf, not breathing, the doctors taking him by my head for a few brief seconds . He came 2 terrifying months early , because my body was killing him, unknown to us at the time, I had systemic lupus erythematosos which decided that my son was a alien creature deserving to die, and so it was starving him of oxygen , and destroying his heart. They told us he would almost certainly die, definitely have brain damage, and NEVER be normal EVER again. He would never READ, or WRITE, or WALK or BE like the other children. IF we WERE LUCKY to KEEP him with us at all.  So began a journey of proportions that my 19 year old mind had never anticipated. I only knew he was mine, and I loved him beyond all reasoning, and was going to fight with all I had to prove the doctors wrong. He was BEAUTIFUL. And something in my childlike faith told me he was strong. They told us, he will need at least 2 months before he can eat on his own and leave the hospital. He ate on his own in a week and left in TWO.  He got his 1st pacemaker at 9 months old,  said his first words during that visit to the hospital and nearly gave the nurses a heart attack. He could climb out of his crib at 10 months, and so we had to dismantle it, so he could sleep on his toddler mattress on the floor to keep from hurting himself. And although he had round after round of pneumonia, bronchitis, viral infections, and endless sicknesses, he knew all his colors at age 18 months , had a huge vocabulary and could hold conversations with adults that astounded them. When time came for him to test for school, he tested well into above average level, so those doctors who said , He won’t make it, he’ll die, and IF , we say IF he lives, he’ll be brain damaged beyond repair, I defy them to look into the green eyes of my big brave boy .Three pacemaker surgeries later, he now he takes apart lawn mower motors with my Dad, can see things mechanically , and digitally on a computer that my brain can never comprehend, and I know, KNOW without a shadow of a doubt, that there is a God , who has a higher plan for him , who that day when those doctors said , He will die, said , You are Not the MASTERS here, and I have never been more glad.  

Sticks and Stones~

Blacknwhiterocks

I’ve never really understood,

the cruel things people say.

Like swords in a duel they dart,

slide in the blade and walk away.

You’re ugly, fat, 

you’re old , unwanted , used,

people left there in the wake,

bleeding, maimed and bruised.

And yet they smile to others,

as if they’d never sinned, 

perfect masks held in front,

though I see the places where they’ve thinned.

Sticks and stones , proclaimed so bold,

and words will never hurt me,

A greater lie was never told, 

for words leave a pain unearthly. 

So mind the poison told in verse,

from those you think your friends,

sticks and stones might never hurt,

but words will be the end.

Ruby Jeanette Woods

Systemic~

755236667_673588

Tiny and trembling
and crumbling
and weak

I grew tired and lonely
and wished only for sleep
with a rock for a pillow
on a bed full of thorns

No rest for the wicked , the worried, the worn.

Awake, yet not truly,
the pain now has blurred,
the moon, and the water, the sun , and the earth ,

Circles in Circles
Wheels within Wheels
Wings fettered with chains

THIS IS HOW LUPUS FEELS!
th

Misfits~

artist : Ruby Woods

artist : Ruby Woods

I’ve never been a wealthy person. Never will be I don’t imagine. Money just doesn’t really mean anything to me. I mean I guess really, what is money anyhow? Paper that someONE decided was worth something. I could honestly say if I won the lottery tomorrow I can’t think of a single thing I’d buy myself. I have everything I NEED. Now I might pay off my bills, THAT would be nice. But I’ve always considered my single greatest source of wealth the people I’ve had in my life. See, ever since I was little, I’ve been labelled as what you might say generously as eccentric, not so generously as the odd duck, even less generously as odd, and downright meanly as just plain weird. I drew, painted, wrote poetry, was generally in the middle of some discussion about something I was thinking that left most people just scratching their heads. I had the smell of dirt or paint or grease or something about my person at all times I’m sure. And now I seem to have a knack for attracting those who are shall we say , differently framed of mind. Artists, free thinkers, or as my husband so succintly summed it up , “You my love, are a kook magnet.” I was raised very unconventionally for the time, my sister and I were home schooled at the time when that was NOT an accepted thing to do. We had access to museums, art, the library , basically unrestricted, I rode horses and lived like a wild faerie in the outdoors coming home looking like a strangeling. My Dad being the intelligent person that he is , saw that I needed direction and so he took me to the woods and taught me to hunt, about nature and wildlife, took me to his workshop and taught me to build things and tear things apart. My parents once got permission from the forestry service to climb the highest forestry tower in the dead of night simply so we might watch Halley’s Comet pass by in all it’s glory. So I suppose it’s no surprise that when I’m out and about now it seems as if certain people gravitate to me. The slightly odd, the misfits, the people whom most people make want to look the other way. I find they have the best stories, they tell them whole heartedly, their hands moving , living in only the moment they are right then. So if this labels me as eccentric or odd, then I accept this label gladly. I am proud . And what is a few hundred folded sheets of paper in comparison to that? No, I say. I am indeed wealthy beyond words.

Time Travel~

Old-time-grocery-store

Beautiful grey morning. Almost as though I have stepped back , to the time when I was I was a little girl again. In that old pickup truck with my faded jeans, and boots. I have them on today. Daddy is here to take me to the farmer’s market. It’s been so long since we went for a drive, I am so happy to be out with one of my favorite people. There’s coffee , black, and the vendors all know Daddy by name. Mr. Deer, what can we get for ya’ today? Daddy wants White Globe peaches from Mr. Jamison’s , where he used to work when he was a boy, and a Black Diamond watermelon, from the man who’s wife works at the factory where Daddy retired after 28 years. There’s some homemade soap, the kind that Daddy used to use in the No. 10 washtub to clean up. The kind that he says , “If ya’ ain’t careful, that’ll wash the hide right off of ya’. ” We leave with our goodies, and he takes me home “the long way”, my favorite saying, meaning , he’s going to show me a new way to go home, on some country backroads, with houses and people he knows and stories to go along with them. In between , I am surprised. Daddy gives me a $20 and lets me get fried pies and a Dr. Pepper in a glass bottle from the Center Point grocery. I sip its sweet coldness and listen to him spin a yarn about how it’s never a good thing to start a fight, but ALWAYS a good thing to finish one. I am 35 , but 15 all at once, and time has flown both forward and back in ways I can’t explain. It is magic caught up in the smell of peaches, black coffee, homemade soap, and cherry pie, and I am altogether the luckiest girl in the whole wide world.

Ahh! The Smell of Car Grease in the Morning!~

My Grease Monkey

My Grease Monkey

He got up at 6 am today. Black hair all tousled. A little groggy, but excited. He hurried to feed his dogs before his Dad took him for his first day today. I heard him fly out the door with a ByeMomLoveYOUSeeYouLater! He came home about four hours later for lunch, talking so fast and so excitedly , I thought I was going to have to tranq him to be able to understand him. What in the world could have my 15 year old son so excited? Why his first day on the job! What kind of job is he doing that could possibly have a teenage boy THIS wound up? Video game creator? Movie Star with a million dollar paycheck? Nope. Overhauling a go cart motor with his GrandPAW. Just a few hundred yards up the road. He came in for his lunch, just chattering! Mom!Me and PAW we took the motor and heads and crank rods and bolts and then a man came and we got to look at a lawnmower and we worked on it too and I mowed and I got to use all kinds of tools and Paw said I could use the big wrenches and then Paw let me look at all his big glass antique bottles and then he said we’d go to the part store and then he said next time we’d get the parts we needed for MR. Jerry and then and then and then and then and then…………….LOL . And LOOK!! My hands are SUUUUUUPPPPER GREASY!! That ‘s the best part!! You’d have thought he was two years old again and I’d given him that old radio to tear apart to see what was inside. I guess little boys never really grow up. They just get bigger toys.

Previous Older Entries

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 190 other followers

%d bloggers like this: