About Me
- Art & Poetry By Barbara Carlan
- 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.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
"A Working Man's Christmas"
Present's won't be placed, underneath our family tree,
cause the government stole my income, all away from me.
Seems they've raised my taxes, even without my consent,
just to splurge for fancy dinners, for our new president.
Our family will have to learn, how to get along with less,
cause the bills have each come due and no works to be had.
It seems my days of plenty, has gone the way of the dust,
just like my hard earned savings, and that rusty old truck.
Charties call my house, wanting more in their donations,
as I mumble in responce, I could use a long staycation.
I show up on my job, hoping works gonna come my way,
and stand around for hours, making thirty hours pay.
This year there ain't no Santa, dressed in his fancy suit,
no room to park his sleigh, just to ruin my brand new roof.
I still owe Santa money, for toys he left here years ago,
interest on my credit cards, soared where, nobody knows?
So Santa stay away, cause all you ever want is monies,
kids don't need more stuff around here, to fight over in the evenings.
Mom and me decide, it was time to make some changes,
bring back a Christmas story, about a babe within a manger.
Present's won't be needed, beneath our Christmas tree,
instead you'll find our Bible and a tiny manger scene.
We'll gather all our kid's around and read the greatest story,
of how the Father's shown his love, by sending earth His glory!
Written By: Barbara A. Carlan 11/26/2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
"A Christmas Story"
In the long halls of the ages,
all the prophets foretold.
Of that babe in a manger,
who'd deliver men's souls.
Since the fall in the garden,
men enslaved to their sin.
Hoped for a lasting deliverer,
from sins battles within.
Then at last in the chill,
of the coldest of nights.
Came a star of Bethlehem,
the one lauded as Christ.
A King came to the earth,
wrapped in the guise of a babe.
His life concieved in the womb,
of the humble mother God gave.
Redemption's journey began,
on that dark December's night.
Resting still in the stables,
where his parents took flight.
For it was just the beginning,
for this illustrious King.
You see salvations calling,
required blood to be redeemed.
When you celebrate this Christmas,
and gather still beneath the tree.
Don't forget the Christmas story,
with it's message for you and me.
Christ came to settle the ransome,
for transgressions we have made.
The grandest story ever told,
was He's alive that Easter Day!
Written By: Barbara A. Carlan 11/19/2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
"My Best Friend"
When just a kid, a child of eight,
an older sister, best friend I'd make.
I hoped to grow, and be the same,
to have her hair and bear her fame.
If by chance, she bore new shoes,
I'd beg in hopes, to have them too.
It seems she always, had the best,
and I was there to glean what's left.
Then in teens, not much had change,
except that she, got more new things.
I heard my dad say, she's the best,
while I wonder why, I'm such a mess.
Then in the years, when children came,
I still wanted to do, and be the same.
Dreams of hers, just seem to happen,
I tried my best, to make mine like them.
Advanced in age, not much has changed,
she lives her hopes, and steals my dreams.
She walks in worlds, I'd hoped to see,
while I stand in place, to watch her glee.
Of late I'm thinking, Lord what's the use,
to be like her, is a strangled noose.
The friend I need, is one who's favor,
is fair and just, prone none to waver.
That friend of youth can be no more,
time for less of me, and no keeping score.
So when in my mirror, I should look to see,
much more of Jesus, and much less of me!
Written By: Barbara A. Carlan 12/6/2009
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