New paintings and regular art updates.
Sing high, sing low, sing medium
No sound evokes emotions as much as song.
Sing sweet, sing dry, sing rich.
Music stills hearts and makes them soar.
Sing soft, sing deep, sing life,
Happiness and sorrow can be drawn out.
Sing loud, sing quiet, sing laughter.
Your life, your heart, your dream.
The trees by the lake cry wooden tears,
The sky glints grey and gold.
Silver shimmers, water waves,
Cold walk in sunset glow.
Feathers, bold, blues new,
Trees and lamps, float above,
Mirror wings , fly out phantom birds.
Swoop over head, peck at the sky.
Field of blue, arching inwards,
Nearer than infinity, but far.
Find your reflection, on the wind,
Life eternal, changing, clouds scattered.
Cyclops, looking at you,
What does he see?
One stern eye facing you..
Checking you out?
Staring deep.
Into your eyes,
Dazzled by your smile,
Ancient sight
Blinded by your brilliance
Or your insolence.
Book avalanche ….
I once had one book.
That wasn’t enough,
Then I had two
One too few?
So I got three
Which I read in a tree.
Soon I had four
How many more?
Five or six, a feast
No seven at least,
Enough for a shelf?
With my twelfth….
Once I had forty
I felt rather naughty.
Just a few more
Came through the door…
Once I read paperbacks
Now I’m on hardbacks,
My addiction is growing,
The books they are flowing.
Trying to count ’em
How can I stop them?
Over one Thousand?…..
No space for me and
My cats.. .
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Here’s looking at you kid,
The eyes seemed to say,
Like a surreal spider
With multiple eyes.
Don’t fear me
I seem to hear them
You will understand
one day.
I smell a surprise
Sniffed out I see
By my old eyes
And a new view.
Ice like feathers,
ice like blood,
ice poured over the bonnet of a car.
Jack Frosts finger nails have skittered across
Leaving their trail of frozen air.
Ice leaps over
ice slips on,
Ice is strong till it is fractured.
Warm air makes ice wet, clammy, then it melts.
Jack Frost,
Dream maker,
gone.
Bars of clouds ascend on high.
Coloured lights paint the sky
How I wish I could return,
to that land of woods and fern.
Mountains high
and valleys deep,
Singers from the Mines and Steel.
Workers with their hands and feet
Love their land through wake and sleep.
I can only look from far
Wishing always to be there.
Welsh by ancestors alone,
Looking cross the border land
Perhaps one day I will lie
Between the earth and cloud barred sky.
Mallaband-Brown