WORDS and IMAGES from
the WORLD'S LARGEST PENAL COLONY

WELCOME!

THIS SITE IS UNDER CONSTRUCTION, SO PLEASE BEAR WITH US. PLEASE RETURN FROM TIME TO TIME TO SEE HOW WE ARE GROWING.

Anthony was inspired by the photograph reproduced here.

"Little Orange Feet"

I sit here on my bed thinking, and for reasons unthought of consciously an image develops in my mind.

My mind paints it clear as crystal, it becomes… for I see the shades of winter as if I’m there once again. SO VIVIDLY! A slight imaginary cold breeze whips across my body, and a chill seems to have made my nose run.

From the shadows of darkness, the grays of silhouettes, to the blue skies and white clouds of brightness. The sun’s rays of light march through the clouds like soldiers going into battle with honor, courage and a duty that calls far greater than any man.

I’m unable to put my finger on it, but something in this picture is pulling at me … What?

From the sparkling blue-green water with edges of ice could pass for a mirage of perfectly cut diamonds.

Shrubbery sleeps at the waters meeting of land, and to mark what seems to be second to the horizon a bridge.

This magnificent bridge standing strong in its gray crafting, making each stone a pillar for the horses that pulled carriages in a time almost forgotten.

With snow contrasted brilliantly, covering this landscape like a blanket of ecstasy as if tucking a child in for a bedtime story to begin.

Enhancing the beauty of this mysterious and priceless wonder my attraction became magnetic.

Trees bare except for three or four brown withered leaves hanging on with what seems to be the last bit of strength, and managing to cling on to the branches of their birth, therefore not understanding or ready for the cycle of life.

I see all this beauty from my peripheral vision, but this work of art has my focus on the center of this stage … Why?

Looking like props from a well-made Broadway play, ducks form by the water’s edge as if just enjoying a winter’s swim with family and friends as instinct takes over these… Little orange-footed ducks form what appears to be ranks, and as they start their march a few pigeons follow suit, proving that beauty does come in all shapes and sizes.

Each duck magnificently crafted by God’s gifted hands an appearance of pure delight and an invitation for every soul, for sight will be transformed into a melody that will have even the angels dancing.

What keeps me transfixed on those ducks? What has my eye, for these blues and grays are all in their places. Yes, I see it: those "Little Orange Feet" that seem to be glowing with harmony.

That’s what has me captivated for its imperfections which make this picture perfect, those "Little Orange Feet" so bold and powerful with a uniqueness that only mother nature could pull off.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

An April Morning

On a beautiful April morning, as I was walking down the street, I could hear the birds singing their melodies so sweet.

I could see the blue sky up above and the good old earth beneath. Was that God whispering to me or just the rustling of a leaf?

Then as it started to rain, I began to wonder, was that God's voice I heard or just the rolling thunder?

At noon as I ate my lunch, I thanked Him for my food, and I had the feeling that life was very good.

As the evening shadows lengthened, I though about my day; it seemed that God was very close all along the way on this,
an April Morning.


^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^


A Moment in Time

I have made a personal journey within myself, where scars are still unscabbed.

This voyage may take me into the deepest realms of my subconscious and inner being, where revealing certain aspects of my life may leave the reader emotionally off-balance.

Sometimes the simplest things may be the hardest episodes in our lives to conquer. Bear with me for at this very moment I'm the little boy in the supermarket who's lost visual contact with his moms by the distraction of colorful boxes of cereal and sweet candy. Then turning around and not seeing my mother anymore, and feeling as though the depths of darkness have swallowed me up.

I'm remembering that feeling of never seeing my mother or family again, afraid to move and afraid to speak, asking myself what did I do for her to leave me?

These feelings come from regret and knowing I could have been a better son, brother, father -- in all, a better human being.


NOW I take you on this odyssey in hopes of finding peace of mind and comfort for my soul.

* * * *

I awaken by a feeling of heart-pounding excitement, for today is the day I ask my mother to accompany in not just having lunch, but in doing lunch.

She is more deserving than the life into which she was delivered into this world, and the mental picture of her in my mind has me all but actually doing flips.

To the bathroom I go to shower, from the shower to my line of exquisite grooming essentials, for this is no ordinary date: I have my greatest love to meet.

Now that I'm fresh and clean-smelling like two million bucks, the closet offers me my best church suit, which says I'm sharp and I'm in charge of this board meeting--everything else is secondary.

No car today, for God has set the tone of this beautiful day, and as I walk to my mom's house, the birds sing to me as if God has given me my own theme music.

She has no idea that I come hoping she grants me permission to be in her company for she is treasured.

Strangers pass with smiles and a sense of approval on their faces, and a warm gesture returned with the biggest kool-aid smile.

At the building of my destination, I'm headed to the seventh floor, I get out, walk down the hall, and knock on my Queen's door.

"Who is it?" comes the reply. I always joke with my moms, so naturally I say "Jehova's Witness!"

She's very courteous, so she'll open the door just to be polite. Her face turns rosy red, then a sparkle in her eye, and a smile on her pretty face.

"Gotcha, Mom!" I say, smiling. She shows her motherly love by turning her back and leaving the door open for me. I come in, greet her with a huge kiss, then sit across from her.


TO BE CONTINUED

 

All work on this page is the copyright of the artist. All rights reserved.
For permission to reproduce any or all of this work,
and for further information about this artist, please contact us at rikerscreative@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Riker’s Creative is a non-profit web site and is in no way affiliated with Riker’s Island, the state of New York, and/or any of it’s official branches. This site is merely a place for art, and written works by incarcerated persons, present and past!