New paintings and regular art updates.
The weight of the world,
making me creak,
making me break,
making me crumble and quake.
Pushing me down,
pushing me under,
finding a crack,
break me asunder.
Restricted and tight,
no room for movement,
shoulders so stiff,
I want to surrender.
Sleep is my safety,
sleep is my friend,
but like a lost child,
I cannot find peace.
Dreams do not come,
only a blackness,
to tired to think,
curled on my mattress.
One day I’ll wake,
free from this tension,
or I’ll be gone,
broken,
departed.
This was the cloud
that rattled the windows,
drowned out birdsong
made my hubby swear in surprise.
This is the cloud
I tried to film
Flashes and rumbles
Forked lightening
Heavy rain it brings.
This was the cloud
That the blackbird sang to,
dueting the flashes
overwhelmed by thunder
liquid notes flying up to heaven,
rain falling in response.
It will be Autumn again.
The leaves will be turning.
The world will have changed.
Life may resume.
We will find out,
if the tragedy is over,
or only just begun?
Flowers will be dead and gone,
Fruit will be picked.
Cats will be snoozing.
Lives will be missed.
Everyone who stayed alive
Will thank their lucky stars.
Realise they have survived.
Through the virus wars.
I wake on a cliff edge.
Teetering, tottering..
Tension racks my shoulders
Stiff, creaking joints.
Sleep does not touch the tightness.
I feel like bones will break.
Mentally I’m OK,
Physically I’m OK
But my mind is tying my body in knots.
Spine fused with tension.
Like a gathering storm.
Waves waiting to break,
Teeth ground to sand.
Life fights.
Thunder clashes overhead.
Will I fall?
Will I stand.
Still.
Bovisand Bay, painted from life several years ago. Acrylic on canvas. This is what I remember…
The beach at Bovisand.
Warm sand beneath my feet.
Gritty rock, specks sparkle in the sun.
Water laps my feet.
Feet sink into soft sand…
Cove enclosed by cliffs.
Blue sky and tiny clouds.
Close growing plants are sheltered.
Back of the bay, a valley nestles in the hills.
A golden grass snake basks in the heat.
I remember.
I remember the thunder storm.
Lightening strikes in dark night.
Watching flashes over the sea.
Awesome beauty.
Remembered.
What did I hear?
What did you say?
So many rumours fly this way..
What someone thought
What myth revealed?
What does this days news report ?
Breaking stories,
The fakes are out
Telling us all in loud shout.
The world is ending
Or soon will fall,
Is there nothing
To do at all?
Step back,
Breathe deeply
Take a break,
Switch off your phone,
Some news IS fake.
Instead you should
Go rest and sleep.
Maybe tomorrow
Sense will seep
Into your mind
Into your dreams
“Hope springs eternal”
It now seems.
X
I just drew these flowers, then tried to position them as borders for the edge of a page. The thing wasn’t working so I added blank pages to make it more of a border. I’d taken a photo of the drawing so there was shadow on the paper. I made a bit of a mess trying to use an airbrush tool on it, so there are some areas which are a bit to shady round the flowers. Then I decided to see how I could use it for a poem, so I wrote it line by line. Positioning each line in turn.
It’s not brilliant, but it’s not something I’ve done before.
X
You stare, and think.
You watch and wait.
Time for food?
Time for love?
Time to play…
You know what you want
How to get under my skin.
You just have to look at me.
Close your eyes slowly,
And the food is in your bowl.
No mercy!
You are obeyed.
I shone a bright torch on our disco ball (yes I’ve got one) took a photo, then another one with the torch on a lower power. Duplicated the photos, and ended up with a couple of interesting pictures that are quite abstract…..
Playing with shapes and light is fun.
Experimental things teach you
How to make new things.
If you don’t try,
You never learn….
Dancing at a barn dance,
putting up an exhibition,
displaying art on my craft stall.
Walking along the canal,
cycling through the countryside,
taking tea at a posh teashop.
Visiting a castle,
looking out to sea,
feeling the wind in my hair.
I’m glad I’m not
suffering from hunger,
hiding from bombs,
frightened and missing my family.
Too poor to buy medicine,
and all the time oppressed.
I may wish for things,
but I’m lucky to have things.
Mallaband-Brown