Here

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Here I am again

Doodling little squares,

Trying to catch life in a box.

Here I sit with pen in hand,

Drawing the world

Squeezing reality into 2 dimensions.

Time pauses while I sketch,

Only to leap forward an hour

When… I. … look.. .. Up..

Here is life compressed,

Its size shrunk like a postage stamp

With the world drawn on it…..

Here is here at Etruria, here I sketch.

Patterns

Oh I love pattern and colour,

I love birds, flowers and trees,

Green men, phoenix, mythical beasts.

Who wants bland and boring?

Who wants pale and wan?

Why not get those colours

Under your skin.

Life is so exciting.

Life can be such fun.

If only we embrace it

Under the sun.

Never give me plain things

Always give me jazz

Living in a coloured land

Magic has begun.

Buses

I was looking at Facebook and this came  up on my memories from a year ago. It seems like Gladstone has turned into an annual event. These photos were taken on my old phone but I think they came out OK.

Bus’s, bus, busses, buses,

Hiss of air brake, diesel drumming,

Sitting up top, out looking,

Running upstairs, keep on trucking,

Ding ding, we’re off

Charabang to the coast

Come look at me,

By the sea 🌊

Just a short trip up town

Buy a dressing gown.?

Memories of buses

Number 21

Conductor checks the ticket

Missed it, now its gone..

Playing

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Playing is learning

and learning if finding out-

How something works,

How far is infinite?

Do stars have names?

The stellar ones, not people.

 

Learning to live, love and be loved.

Playing is life before we know why.

Reflecting on what if, what is, why?

Give praise for play, and theatre, music

Give praise to be learners of law,

 

Have fun while you play,

While away the time

But

Stand firm when you have played and learnt.

Don’t lose your wish to learn more.

Keep in mind what went before,

And learn from what’s in store…

 

Weather

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Storms and hooks of cloud.

Hurricanes and tornados, monsoon and typhoon?

The weather worsens and land is submerged.

Subsumed under water, pouring over ground.

The heat is rising, bubbling up.

Jet stream and Gulf stream, stream and steam.

Poor polar bear, starving now the sea is no longer ice.

Ship’s can sale through warm waters,

But is this good? No it cannot be,

The ocean and the sea,

Will rise above our heads if we don’t change.

Carbon dioxide expands, exhaled from life and oil.

Let us hope we can ride out the waves,

Let us survive and make amends.

Love the world, the Earth,

Do not love greed and money.

 

Sleep

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The Sun sets earlier every day now, by 9pm it is dark, the summer sun falls below the horizon, dropping down and bringing shadows.

My head nods with weariness, barely able to keep my eyes open. I long for sleep, ready to rest my weary limbs beneath cool sheets, but sleep sneaks away sometimes, I’m hazy with it one minute then alert and awake the next jerking back into the world with a jump, taken out of sleep by a noise or a pain.

So yes, I do need sleep, but it tends to grab hold of me in the daytime. When I’m not expecting it I fall asleep. Listening to the radio or watching tv. In a meeting. Thankfully never when I am driving. But I could almost fall asleep in a queue in a shop, tonight I was nodding at choir practice… but now at well after midnight, nothing,  no sleep.

Sleep is the soft rest that gently rocks your body into dreams,

Sleep is the midnight air coursing through your veins,

Sleep is looking at your partner as he slumbers,

Sleep hides ills and heals woes,

Sleep shapes wakefulness, giving rest to the weary.

I want sleep in my eyes, sleep in my mind.

I want to be drousy, dreaming of soft down pillows.

I need rest, from fears, from worries.

Give me sleep, now.

Thistle do?

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Thistle, old flower,

Magenta and green,

Sharp and green,

Sparkling with spikes,

Shunning the soft,

Not needing likes,

But waiting to shed

Your seeds all around,

Soft thistledown

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Work in progress on a painting of a thistle against old brickwork. It’s good how life can spring from cracks in the pavement or up from old guttering. The world tries to take over for our concrete and brick….

Thistles do remind me of punk and spikey hairdos!