Remembrance Day, Forgotten

Pin It Hiyaaa... So glad you could come by... (shuffles uncomfortably)

Um, I know you were coming here expecting some great funny story, or maybe a rant, some cool thing I saw on the internet... but um, I'm feeling kind of unprepared for your visit tonight.  I got nadda.  I don't know what to talk about.  I've got 20 drafts sitting, waiting to be developed.  At least 50 more filling up my notebook waiting to be brought to life.

But tonight?  None of them feel right.  Nothing's striking my fancy.

(uncomfortable silence)

Ok, I see you're not really willing to accept this as an answer, so since I don't want you to feel that your visit here is a total bust...  I drew you a picture:

To tell you the truth, I was suppose to post it in on Remembrance Day, this past Friday, Nov 11 in Canada... but I forgot.  How's that for irony?  I didn't forget about the day, just about the post I'd planned.

I was going to use this picture, and feature the poem "In Flanders Field" by John McRae, written in 1915, during the first World War.  Better late than never they say, so here it is for you:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

It doesn't have to be Remembrance Day, or Memorial Day in the US, in order for us to remember and give thanks for the thousands upon thousands of young men who risked or even gave their lives so that our countries could continue to prosper and that we could continue to enjoy the freedom which is the right of any human being.

If you're new around here, you might not have read my Grandfather's poetry from WWII... you should really check it out.  The artist's soul is a shared trait within my clan.

And I thought I had nothing to say.

Felicia ;)

PS: Did you know? Felicianation is ever growing, and I recently added a niche blog celebrating art in all it's mediums... check it out!  amazingartfinds.blogspot.com

If you still haven't had enough of me, you could check out these previous posts, some of my personal favourites:

I may be crazy, but you're insane!
A PSA for Teenage Girls
Passenger: A revealing look into the crazy/beautiful mind of Felicia Stevenson

A tribute to sand art - and the human mind.

Pin It

I "stumbled" upon this video while surfing the net the other day... it's rather long but quite amazing!

I can't imagine putting so much energy into something that would be washed away by the ocean or blown away by the wind, but his passion is intoxicating, it's almost as if he's in a trance: every move calculated, every step coordinated.  Quite extraordinary! 

I think most people will have already seen this one, but it wouldn't be a tribute to sand art without sharing this one.  It's the first of this genre I ever saw, the story she tells about a soldier going off to war and his young wife is beautiful, and the music makes it all very very powerful.  Enjoy!


It never ceases to amaze me what artists are capable of.  Talk about creating something from nothing.  We see beauty where others only see trash.

In case you're enjoying this just as much as I am, here's one last one that I think is worth sharing  the use of the different coloured bulbs in the light box make for an interesting effect.



Hope you enjoyed! There are many more if you just search "sand art" on youtube.

More Poetry From WWII - A soldier's letters to his wife

Pin It Just one soldier's letters  home...


As promised in my first post about my grandfather, here is another one of the beautiful poems he sent home to my grandmother:

(click the image for a large view)

By Ian Munro Stevenson, WWII

To Florence:

My Darling when this war is won.

How good I'll be to you, 

My sweetheart when this job is done,

For you the things I'll do.

This War has made me realize,

How much I need you dear,

At each reveille I arise,

To start the day in tears.

For I can think of nought but you,

Yes even in my sleep -

E'en in my dreams I lay and brood,

I dream of you and weep.

Oh let them play their blasted bands,

And let their flags unfurl, 

I long for the touch of your loving hands, 

and your smile, with teeth like pearls.

I'm tired of the marching feet and the rain, 

the slashes like hundreds of whips

I long to be at your side again,

And feel the thrill of your lips.

No more do I look forward to

My leaves, I once was glad,

To get to spend with just us two,

But now I'm much too sad.

You ask me has my love gone cold, 

Since I've come over here,

My sweet it has increased ten fold,

And you've no need to fear.

My sweetheart please don't doubt my love,

I'll never love but you,

I swear by all that's good above,

that I will always be true.

I know my love how hard it is, 

For you at home alone, 

I know how much you miss my kiss,

So much I miss your own.

I know my sweet in every way,

your love for me is true,

But don't forget that every day, 

I love and miss you too.

I know he was my grandfather, but this poetry from the second world war by a soldier to his wife really moves me. I'm floored by how good it is, and would love to hear it put to music, and played for the world to hear (with some minor editing), it should at the very least be published in a World War II book, or a collection of poems on war.

My heart goes out to all the soldiers and their wives or girlfriends, present and past.  This must be so painful and terrifying.

For more poetry from this devoted soldier, click here

Poetry from WWII - A soldier's letters to his wife

Pin It I recently came across these letters my grandfather wrote for my grandmother while he was away in World War II.  I was amazed to discover what a poet he was, another artist in my family, another affirmation that I am on the right path.


Here are some images, scans I took of the very old paper, thick and creased as it has been probably since he stuffed it in an envelope and sent it across the seas to comfort the love he'd left behind:

"Stealing Through My Heart"

Stealing through my heart

I feel a memory of you

Stealing through my dreams

I see the happiness we knew

Through my every slumber

I see a moon above

I hold you close and whisper

To you again of love

Gently through my ears

I can hear you breathe my name,

The loneliness I fell goes on

seeping through my brain 

But though we are apart

I will remember you

For you seem to keep on stealing through my heart

Stealing through my heart