New paintings and regular art updates.
I want a light red
Not a pink
Not orange
Crimson?
Perhaps,
Maybe vermilion,
Something punchy,
Not magenta,
Not alizarian
Not a deep cadmium red (hue)
So many names
But which one will be right,
What is the correct tinge?
Works in progress
Paint laid on paint,
Building up layers,
Blood red?
Maybe if I put my heart into it.
Apollo 11
50 years on,
Watching the landing,
Seeing the moon
In another light.
I was young when it happened
I was allowed to stay up.
Marvelling at Man’s bravery
And ability
To fly to the moon.
Hold up my thumb
Moon has gone.
If they did the same
earth was gone too.
Infinity of space
We are miniscule.
Apollo as insect jumping to a new stone.
Taking a tiny step into the void.
Perhaps we will go further,
But life remains precious,
Our bubble got bigger
But remains tiny
In the shape of space.
I was sitting in the summerhouse this evening and I felt happy for the first time in ages.
Keep going
Keep doing,
Making art,
Meditating.
Seeing positives.
In our garden,
I love the light,
The green,
Refreshing,
Surrounded by life,
By inspiration,
By colour.
Art and imagination,
Release of creation
Serenity
Oh books, you tomes of wisdom,
your cracked pages full of age,
paperback and hardback,
album and autobiography.
You change my mind, change my thoughts,
help me to learn, help me to see.
Books hold knowledge, and deceit.
Not all knowledge is truth,
Sometimes it’s misinformed,
or misinformation.
But I’d rather have a book than a computer……
Books are analogue.
Purr, I like you
Purr let me sharpen my claws…
On your leg..
Purr, gimme food!
Purr, gimme water!
Purr, clean my litter tray,
Purr, let me sit here
It’s my computer now…
Purr, that’s a book?
Let me read it.
Purr that’s your food
Gimme some now!
Purr, I’m tired
Let me sleep on you.
Not your lap,
Your face!
Purr I love you
Purr yes I do….
Loads of ripe cherries
High in the tree
Out of reach of human hands
But not from beaks you see.
Blackbirds, pigeons and magpies
Each have their fill
Of sweet red cherries
They have the skill,
Of flying high above me
Pecking at the fruit
Eating all the ripe ones
In their aerial persuit.
Sweet red cherries
Small and round and neat.
I go without
And the birds get a treat!
Your wheel eyes stare
Soft feathers steady your body,
Feet reach forward
Toes and talons stretched
You swoop
Then up
Pushing down strong wingbeats
A small mammal caught,
Food for yourself or your fledglings.
Soft you whisper across the darkening landscape,
Home to the old barn.
