Sleepless in Stoke

My minds a whirl..

Little thoughts track big ones

Trickle through my brain

Like sand in a puzzle

Clogging up the workings

No smooth calmness

Jumping clumps of

Dark matter

Or spaghetti goo

What does that meant

To you?

Nothing, random

Overactive

Spiced with tinges

Of pain

Let me sleep

Not that tune

Again!

What’s on the easle?

They ask

‘what’s on the easle?’.

I say

‘a lot of stuff’

Tissues and a coffee cup

And other sorts of muck

A drawing of a dragon

A pallette and a brush

A green painted canvas

If you really want to look….

I ought to be painting

But there’s been a delay

My minds gone off the boil now

It’s not coming out to play…

One day I’ll get my mojo back

I’ll start to paint again

But till that day my easle

Is a place to rest my brain!