New paintings and regular art updates.
Time is flying
A week ago
It peeked around the corner
A fuzzy splodge of time
A week before
It was almost non existent.
Today it’s almost gone
It’s tide going out.
Soon to be forgotten
Again
Times arrow flys forward
But it’s flight feathers
Burn like a comet
Behind it.
Www.Weekago?
I drove up into fog
Cloud coming down to greet me
November fog and mist banks.
Cold dank cloud
Overall grim and frightening
One huge hound
At the side of the road
Waiting to pounce
If you slow down…..
She’s lovely, she’s sweet.
She sticks her claws in my knees
Says hello, it’s very cute
But those claws are a brute
Holey trousers, ripped shins,
Make me weep, ouch and eek!
I love her dearly, so much more
But I think my knees don’t need he paw!
His paws are huge
Like a leopard or lion
Stretched out in a tree
Curled up like a kitten
I see him sleeping
Paws twitch, ears alert
Full of purrs
Running like a cheetah
Through a forest
Of dreams…..
I want to time travel
Back to Cornwall
Back to happy days
Laughing and crying
With happiness.
Warm sunshine
And late sunsets
Beautiful countryside
Gentle breezes
Walking across fields
Passing cows and horses
Before the sadness.
My eyes flood with tidal waves of tears.
Storm clouds have darkened my brows.
Salt tears course down my cheeks.
Time has flown, she is gone.
My sister – my twin.
Written and drawn at 4am. Things just got to me again and it seemed a good way of expressing myself.
Yellow, gold and brown
All the leaves fall down
Fallen in a mound
As the wind whirls round
Rain streaks the windows
As the wild storm blows
Hail mixed into icy rain
Knocks more leaves down again
Time has ended for them now
Rotten, crumbled, so they go.
Under seven trees,
Branches entwined
Roots tangled
One organism
Whole
Someone planned them
Years ago
Someone pulled them
Into a hide or tent
Someone cared for them
Now they are a wonder
In Trentham Park.
Brown is boring
Brown’s like grey
Such a shame
Is there no way
To be exciting
On a cold wet day
It looks so drab.
But a shaft of sunlight
Brightener of all
Lifts it to Golden brown
Or the colour of copper kettles
Bronzed or even brassy
Makes me happy
Brown can be sassy
Looking out at four am
Through steamed window
The view is obscured
By a dying plant
(sadly too cold)
A cat doorstop
Cat food
A wind up radio
And a cow creamer.
Very random.
Too tired to rhyme.
Have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
