"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

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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

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