Saturday, September 18, 2010

Greeting Cards, Note Cards: All Hand-Painted~

My hand-painted notecards and greeting cards -- including holiday cards are gradually being added to my website artbyangela.weebly.com Go check them out!! You can place your order's right on the website or email me anytime and place your order with me. I accept payments through paypal.

As always I'm working on a couple custom paintings and have openings if you would like a custom painting yourself. I also do pet portraits, abstracts, sea/landscapes and more.

The greeting cards are perfect for an array of occasions, the Holiday cards are wonderful for Christmas (Which is JUST around the corner!) and the notecards are a fantastic fit for anyday of the year.

artbyangela.weebly.com go look for yourself!!
Much love, as always
Angela

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Light house painting

I'll be starting a commissioned painting this weekend, very excited. It's going to be a light house on a rocky coast at the end of a jetty. The sun will either be shining or setting (haven't decided). The white house is to be red and white. . . it's going to be a stunner of a painting. I'm very happy to have been asked and look forward to making her present everything she hopes it will be!!

I'll post pictures of it when it's completed, look for some in the upcoming month or two!!

If you'd like a piece commissioned please contact me!

Always, Angela Paul !

Monday, August 2, 2010

Angela Paul
4/4/2010

A familiar rage builds within and I feel myself recede into the fog.
I look for light and search for warmth but instead I roam in circles.
With each repeated step, my soul and hope are bound and dragged down
Like the forgotten words scrawled on tattered pages of my self-condemning novel
The chapters unveil the blueprints of my life, the recipes of well intent
That failed so miserably.
The bruises that caused sadness, when sadness wasn’t meant,
The scrapes that time forgot to heal and scarred my memory instead,
The words, the anger, the unbearable silence
The void of love and the resulting assumption of unworthiness.
Over the years I’ve come to fear most things I haven’t reason to.
I’ve accepted the notion that a broken future might be all in my possession.
I’ve long grown accustomed to the violent shudders,
the trembling, paranoia, and secret tears.
From the hollow reaches of my own reality I search frantically for answers, that never appear; How did this began? Why am I afraid? Who is it I am fighting?
If I cast aside the shackles, will I finally feel alive?
Or shall I plummet to my sorrow and endure the treacherous night?
Day by day I’ve allowed others to rein my every thought,
Allowed the chains I’ve bound to myself, to be my chosen hell.
From the dark and damp corner, banished and alone . . .
I look for where to lay the blame, but only find myself.
Desperate to bury my corrupted hope, And to gain peace and strength
I realize I’ve spent too long on hatred for the very thing I cling to.
Amid my forsaken and feeble resistance , the dawn of remorse has availed
I step to the left and begin my ascent to victory over myself.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Crimson Ground



I looked for you today, in the shadows of the trees
Hoping to catch a glimpse of the crystal moon
Or touch the slow autumn before the wilting of yesterday came forth
I have seen you from my window, out amongst the unforeseen
Where no one sees your hand clasped in mine
But we indulge it just the same
You always recede through the night
Carrying with you that sadness of yours; I know.
It's as though my heart is a mere extension of your own
That our souls were only half mast; until we merged and became one.
Is it you who is seeking me? Was it always you?
Is that why you frequent my dreams as often as you do?
Or is it I, that climbs like a blossom; who's petals reach to graze against your cheek,
Who'd give the world to feel safe while laying in your hallowed arms
As the brown leaf dropped onto the crimson ground,
This empty house nestles in for the night.
With the sun waning through the pines and the groves
Darkness blinds the eyes from seeing, though the soul is far from sleep
I know you are my keepsake,
My slow falling autumn.