"Welcome To My Blog"

Today is June 7, 2015, so much has happened in the years since my last update here. On February 28,2014 I suffered a Heart Attack. Probably one of scariest events of my life but deeply grateful that the Lord has spared me. So because of Him I am here today and able to give Him praise. We are enjoying the warm months of summer here in Georgia as we watch the spring like weather fade. I hope all are enjoying the blessings of our great God!

All art and writings are copyrighted by me and may not be copied or used without permission. !!

"For I know my thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not evil, to give you an expected end. Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will harken unto you. And ye shall seek me and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart." Jeremiah 29:11-13

About Me

My photo
Lawrenceville, Georgia, United States
Barbara Carlan is a self taught artist living in the southeast. She was born in Washington D.C., was primarily raised in the panhandle of Florida and traveled all over southeastern United States and parts of Washington state as a child of the military. Barbara from an early age showed a passionate interest in art. She began painting and writing poetry in the late 1980's. Now that her life is free from the responsibilities of parenting and the necessary demands of having a growing family, she's able to pursue her true passions, painting, writing, photography and sewing. Barbara has discovered through art that life with it's complexities can find a sweet fragrance of release through the creative process.

Friday, September 25, 2009

"My Mothers Voice"

I first heard her sonant, in my conception of days,
where the womb held me silent, suspended in space.
The sound of her music, gave a comfort from fears,
while the angels in glory, wiped away every tear.

I remember her voice, from my earliest of days,
as we sat in the shade of the Live Oaks that swayed.
Sounds of her instrument, made me always feel sure,
when worlds that I knew, were so cold and disturbed.

Her voice seemed so flawless, like angelics of old,
she taught me her sonants, like her mother before.
This world not the same, as worlds once were in time,
for the sounds of her music, will not again meet with mine.

If I know some remorse, from this life that I've lived,
it's I never did tell her what her instrument did.
How the sound of her voice, was so wonderfully loved,
by her children of springtime, as we walked in her world.

Barbara A. Carlan 6/4/2009

Friday, September 18, 2009

"A Place"

A place to rest when day is done,
from gaurded watch within this home.
A faithful friend I determined to be,
as I took my place at my masters knee.

Those years I spent within this home,
joy I gave with the love they've shown.
Made our world a much sweeter place,
as I gave good love to my masters face.

Like the soldier who has stood his watch,
I've taken my place here beneath this rock.
To rest and sleep now my works all done,
to dream of trails we together roamed!
Written By: Barbara A. Carlan 9/2009

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

"Another's Story"

Endless curbing on concrete catwalks,
line the roads of busy towns of small talk.
Miles of asphalt creep thru grassy knolls,
where once anothers story was told.

Of dirt road traffick by horses driven,
and country people were simply living.
Tilling their crops, sown in early spring,
ending their labors, on a front porch swing.

Families gathered near, from exhausted joy,
to share the rewards, of the lives they sowed.
The setting of sun greets the evening damp,
as the early heavens produce galatic romp.

Children stilled listening to grand dads tales,
how once from the homeland on a ship he sailed.
How he traveled months on a merchants vessel,
to come to the new world to work and settle.

How he dreamed of land where he'd build a home,
then herd some cattle and allow them roam.
Then he'd find him a wife and sire them son's,
and work with his hands till the setting sun.

Where once was the homeplace now a parking lot,
and where the barn once stood all the peoples shop.
The pasture land where horse and cattle roamed,
now subdivision filled with cookie cutter homes.

Endless curbing flanked by concrete sidewalks,
lines the pavement of busy towns of small talk.
Miles of asphalt stretch through grassy knolls
where once another's stories were told!
Written By: Barbara A. Carlan 8/27/2009

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

"The Church"

"Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant. Make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is wellpleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ; to whom be glory for ever and ever." Hebrews 13: 21-22